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Book 



Copyright N^.. 



CiJKflSIGHIP DEPOSIT. 




MARK TWAIN. 



ENCYCLOPEDIA 

FOR THE HOME 

A COMPLETE LIBRARY 

OF ■ 

THE BEST LITERATURE 

OP 

THE BEST AUTHORS 

Selected with a View to Home Reading, and the Inspiring, Ennobhng, 
Elevating, Refining Influence in the Home Life 



EDITED BY 



(J '' 



MARSHALL EVERETT y 

The Well Known Attiiok and IIistorian 



THE WIT AND WISDOM OF THE GREATEST WRITERS 

Origin of the World's Favorite Songs. Appropriate and Instrnctive Selections 
in Poetry and Prose, Jewels of Patriotism and Selections for the Children. 
Including Anecdotes and Biographies of Great Authors and Orators. AVitty 
After-Dinner Speeches by Men of Note, Great Historical Orations, All Sorts of 
Humor by the Greatest Humorists. ^ ^ :# ^ # ^ 



SUPERBLY ILLUSTRATED •'* 

INCLUDING A GALLERY OF PORTRAITS OF GREAT AUTHORS 
COLUMBIA PUBLISHING HOUSE 

CHICAGO, ILI.INOTS 



UBRARY of CONGRESS 
Two Cooies Recehred 

DEC 7 »905 

- CopyiifW Entry 

/fc-ASS O. XXC.KO. 

fCfX9f 
COPY B. 






OOPYErGHT 1905 

By 

T. A. WANEK 



All rights strictly reserved 
Encyclopedia for the Home 




HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW was thirty-two years of age when his 
first book of verses was published. When "Hiawatha," "Evangeline," "Miles Standish," and 
creations of that class came out, the sales were very large. Longfellow was a scholar, a 
devoted student and a literary genius, whose fame will grow with the advancing years. He 
spent many years in Europe, and at the time of his death, in 1882, had occupied the chair 
of belles lettres at Harvard University nearly forty-five years. He was born in Maine in 
1807. He is regarded by many as the most representative poet to whom America has 
given birth. 




OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES, the poet, was primarily a physician, although he 
studied law at the same time he was attending a medical school. He was professor of 
anatomy at Dartmouth College and Harvard University for a time, and then began the 
practice of medicine in Boston. Writing verses was natural to him, and he first began his 
poetic career while a student at college. In 1857, when forty years of age, "The Autocrat 
of the Breakfast Table" was issued, which made his standing in the literary world secure. 
He was a native of Massachusetts. His death occurred in 1894. His son is now a Justice 
of the Supreme Court of the Ignited States. 



PREFACE 



^ 









OREMOST in the preparation and presentation of this work one great 
object has been sought — to place in the hands of the entire household 
o-ems of literature calculated to uplift, broaden and awaken that which is 
noblest in each nature. The grandest and most sublime efforts of the 
world's greatest authors have been gathered in concise form, affording to 
the busiest man, the woman encompassed by multitudinous duties or the 
child barred by circumstances from access to the great libraries opportu- 
nity to become familiar with those who achieved most in the world of 
letters and to enjoy the most striking types of their literary products. 

Poet, novelist, historian and dramatist alike find a place within its 
covers. The honored writers of the past who have gone to ther last re- 
ward breathe forth their messages of hope, love and ambition from these 
pages. The living members of this guild that has done so nuich to enrich 
mankind have not\een neglected. Their burning words in story, song and essay will 
here be found, inviting closer acquaintance, and endless source of amusement, instruction, 
and — to the thoughtful— inspiration. 

In this day of universal education an 1 of popular cultivation of the arts and sciences 
it is the acknowledged duty of each individual to move with the procession to the best of 
his ability and assimilate his full share of knowdedge and culture. 

Books are the only things that never die. To that fact we owe the education, cul- 
ture and refinement of this period, for we have as our grandest heritage everything that 
man has acquired of a useful, enlightening or entertaining character, and set down in 
books, through the ages of the past. 

Carneo-ie and other great men of vast resources have felt it their obligation to the 
world to devote their wealth to the dissemination of learning, inspiration and hope 
through the establishment of libraries where less favored men could draw on this heritage 
through the medium of books. The same work has long been undertaken by municipal- 
ities, villages and organizations of all kinds, including churches and Sunday schools. 

- ' A grand result has been accomplished, yet the lofty aim has failed in part. The 
failure is ?n this : although we as a people maintain all men are born equal, no solemn 
declaration nor effort on our part has ever resulted in equalizing opportunity. While li- 
braries teem with the wealth of the ages in book form, the business cares and demands 
crowding on many men prevent them from bestowing upon themselves the time to read 
that for^which their souls crave and which would do so much to advance them socially 
and in a business way. The same is true of countless thousands of busy housewives, de- 
voting their time and energy to husband and children at the sacrifice of their own mental 

development. 

The circumstances that abridge the opportunities of the parents reflect with m- 
creased force upon the children and deprive them of the intellectual food that has now 

;. _.- 5 _. ■. ' 



6 PREFACE. 

become a necessity. To those living amid the fields that feed the world this analysis will 
appeal as a bitter truism. With ample means at hand and the leisure that winter brings, 
they must still contend with environment as a handicap in the race of life. The isolation 
of the small town and ':he farm operate to abridge opportunity in this direction regardless 
of prosperity in a material way and the proud independence that is the chief glory of the 
husbandman. 

It was with a full appreciation of these facts that the work of preparing this vol- 
ume was undertaken, in the belief that a fruitful yet neglected field invited the labor. 
From almost innumerable volumes the best efl:"orts of their authors have been culled, af- 
fording at least one example of the v/riter's ablest efifort. In many instances several se- 
lections are given, affording opportunity to contrast the style and moods in which the 
producer worked. 

Here then is in brief an introduction to the recognized authors of the world, both 
those of today and those who have gone before. It is an opportunity to meet the famous 
writer in his happiest mood when he is at his best without the expenditure of time neces- 
sary to grope with him from his early efforts until the period when recognition has been 
forced. Instead of pursuing that long and tortuous method of gaining close acquaint- 
ance, we greet him at the psychological moment when he has won fame and attained 
success with a stroke of the pen. The very words that won for him are the medium of 
the introduction. 

More than a mere introduction to any single author, however, it is the aim to 
make this volume the literary "open door" — not to the east, nor to any section, but to the 
entire world of letters. Through this "open door" we. will enter at the most interesting 
moment, being ushered into a vast congress of writers of all climes and all ages. Each is 
seeking to bestow upon us the best he has to give. Casting aside in forgetfulness our un- 
preparedness, due to neglect or lack of opportunity in the past, the common usages of 
good society compel us to feel at home at this reception. 

Concealing from even ourselves for the moment the countless demands upon our 
time, duty compels us to enjoy the hour to the uttermost. The hour! Not one, but many 
hours — yea days, weeks and months may be passed in this goodly company with profit to 
ourselves and to those with whom we will come in contact and upon whom will reflect the 
lofty thought, the polish and the understanding we shall acquire in this classic society. 

Nor will the flight of time dim the friendships we shall make or the vistas of sound 
thought and the avenues of pleasure our new acquaintances open to us. Throughout the 
fleeting years the "open door" shall beckon, enticing us to brief sessions with old and hon- 
ored friends and inviting us to make new ones. 

And these friends are the kind that are firm and true. Neither trouble nor adversity 
will cause them to desert us. If we drink deeply of the profifered glass of friendship, if 
we quaff in hearty spirit from the loving-cup, loneliness shall become a forgotten term, 
meaning naught to us. Who would be lonely when on the book shelf or table near at 
hand rests a magic casket, which needs but to be lifted and opened to send trooping forth 
an army of comforters and entertainers. To prove such a boon this work was designed. 

To the tired man, wearied with the common-place drudgeries of business or indus- 
trial life, this casket will summon philosophers with soothing and optimistic truths that 
will drive dull care away. Or, if occasion require, from its depths he may call forth ora- 
tors whose noble and inspiring utterances will impart new strength and awaken dormant 




WILLIAM DEAN HOVVELLS is one of the most popular writers of fiction in Amer- 
ica, and his works have had a wide circulation. The most conspicuous feature of his books 
is their absolute cleanliness. He has never written anything of an immoral or suggestive 
nature, and for this reason his influence upon the literature of the United States has been 
for the greatest good. He is one of the classic authors of the time, the purity of his English 
being worthy of study by young men and women who have an ambition to make names for 
themselves in the realm of literature. Mr. Howells has lived in the East many years, hav- 
ing journeyed there from Ohio, where he' was born in 1837. 




ii-Lvi/\i\i i^ui^LHiN aKY i ij.y J. , jju\_l, tuiuui, idwyci, dim itiuciu biudeni oi literature, 
was a descendant, on his mother's side, of John Alden; his family characteristics were 
those of the stern and severe Puritans. Bryant was- born at Cummington, Massachusetts, 
in 1794, and died in New York City in 1878, where, for many years, he had been the 
editor of the Evening Post. He began to write verses at an early age, his father encourag- 
ing him in this, and was but eighteen years old when he composed the imperishable "Thana- 
topsis." 



PREFACE. " 9 

ambition, urging him on to action when he would procrastinate and perchance do nothing 
more. Wit, too, that most subtle of gifts, will obey his call and come forth with smiling 
face and unctuous jest to make merry an otherwise sad hour. 

Woman, weighted down with the multiplicity of details that are the lot of the sac- 
rificing wife and mother, will find within this magic casket many valued friends. The 
soft voice of the poet will assail her in unhappy moments with a message of love and 
cheer and hope, awakening the echoes of music of other days, half forgotten in the 
humdrum of daily existence. To her the writers of her sex will softly whisper words 
that will awaken vibrations in her own heart. Their tears will mingle in a common 
cause, in the sunshine of their pages she will find joy and in the incidental philosophy 
repose and peace. 

The growing child, budding to manhood or young womanhood, who ere long must 
bear the brunt and burden that is the common fate of all on this mundane sphere, may 
turn to this modern Aladdin's lamp with a certain knowledge that the genii it will call 
forth shall serve with faithful purpose today, tomorrow, and so long as life may last. 
Truth, virtue, honesty, uprightness, honor, morality, wisdom, philosophy, ambition, cour- 
age, charity, steadfastness of purpose — all these and many more constitute the genii. 

It is with these attributes the great writers of prose have dealt. They have formed 
the topic of the poet's song and the foundations on which the eloquence of the orator 
have rested. Shall it not profit the growing child to have these grand qualities exalted 
before his receptive mind while that mind is yet forming ? Exalted, not in commonplace, 
homely and unattractive phraseology, but with all the force and with all the embelish- 
ment that the master minds of the world have been able to bestow ! 

The child may summon one of the genii and receive a selection suited to his or iier 
elocutionary ability for rendition in school or elsew^here, proud in the knowledge that the 
selection is the best of its kind the world affords. He may find comfort, pleasure and 
education within the pages of this book and at the same time without effort grasp with 
lasting force the great truths upon which character is founded. 

It has been no small undertaking to attempt so comprehensive a work within the 
covers of one volume and it was with a spirit of reverence the task was approached. 
It is not contended that all that is masterful, beautiful or entitled to recognition is pre- 
sented. Rather it has been the aim to select. the best. production, or group of produc- 
tions, of each author and publish it as a sort of key to the character and ability of the 
producing genius. To weigh the literature of the world in order to reject that con- 
sidered unavailable for a volume of this kind has been no light a-nd inconsequential un- 
dertaking. 

It is not unlikely that cUscussion may arise over the selections made. After all, 
individual judgment of literary values nar^rows down largely to individual preferences, 
and in this respect the greatest dififerences preyail. The most casual glance, however, 
will make it at once apparent that the compilers have exercised conscientious judgment, 
free from all prejudice in assembling the gems of thought that have been included. 
Physical limitations alone made necessary the rejection of many writings entitled to 
high praise. The latter, while in many instances popular, are in no instance as close to 
the heart interest of the people at large as those accepted for publication. 

Heart interest — the real preference of real people of flesh and blood and thought 
and action — has ever been kept uppermost in mind in the work of selection, without, 



lo PREFACE. 

liowever, losing sight of the primary question of Hterary worth. In consequence the 
vohuue hreathes of action, attainment. accompHshment. It is well that such is the case 
for the modern demands on our energy are so great that every stimulus that is pure, 
wholesome and healthy is a blessing. 

Any who may feel that their favorite author has been slighted in not receiving 
greater recognition than has been accorded him or her will do well to bear this explana- 
tion in mind. All have been treated fairl}' and all deserve the space allotted them — and 
perhaps more. Others, perhaps thousands, who are struggling to enrich the world in 
thought and sentiment are vv'orthy of every consideration. Yet it must be remembered 
that. this volume is not an attempt to present all that is good in literature, but all that 
is best. 

In conclusion it is to be hoped that sometime, somewhere in this volume each 
reader will find something that will awaken within him a desire to follow the thought of 
some particular author further and to partake more fully of the good things he or she 
may have given to the world. If that result follows mankind shall have indeed profited 
through this little echo of the great voice that speaks in all tongues, in all lands and 
throughout all time — literature. 

The book has worked miracles since first human ingenuity guided by divine intelli- 
gence gave it birth. It has been, perhaps, the most potent factor in working out human 
destiny through evolution. It has brought down through the centuries religion and the 
storv of the fellowship of man ; it has opened the way for laws and reforms that have 
made whole nations free ; it has handed from generation to generation the ever increas- 
ing scientific knowledge that enables the almost blind to see, the lame to walk, and the 
dying man to look with hope for the coming of the hurriedly summoned physician. 

Today the book is teaching all men, rich and poor alike, to think ; and with the 
growth of thought all despotism, injustice and dishonesty shall ultimately pass away. 
Equality in capability to think is the coming powder that gives promise of making all men 
truly equal in fact, in opportunity and in prospects. 

Accept, then, this "open door" not only as a personal introduction to some of the 
great men who have aided in setting this mighty power in motion, but as a tribute to them 
and to their work. Let us enter, then, as gladly as though it were a triumphal arch 
erected to their glorification. We shall be well repaid by the sunshine that glows within. 

MARSHALL EVERETT. 




MURAT HALSTEAD is a journalist whose career began about 1850. He was present 
at the execution of John Brown, in 1859; was correspondent and staff officer durmg the 
War of the Rebellion; was correspondent during the Franco-Prussian War; has reported 
every Republican National Convention since 1856, and was editor and proprietor of the 
Cincinnati Commercial many years. He was born in 1829. He has written many books 
that have had an extra large sale, some of them selling over a million copies. 







RALPH VVALDO EMERSON, author, preacher and scholar, was of Boston birth ; he 
died at Concord, in 1882, at the advanced age of seventy-nine. Emerson's character was a 
beautiful one m every way ; his writings have a grace and charm possessed by none others ; 
his ideals were always high, as is evidenced by his advice to the aspiring youth of America— 
"Hitch your wagon to a star." His pulpit oratory was simple, eloquent and effective. In 
1833, while in England, he visited Carlyle, Coleridge and Wordsworth and formed friend- 
ships which were only terminated by death. 



TABLE OF CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

PREFACE 5 

TABLE OF CONTENTS 14 

HOMES OF SOME LOVED POETS 33 

Longfellow's Homes 33 

James Russell Lowell's Elmwood... 34 

Whittier's Three Homes 36 

William Cullen Bryant's Home 36 

Ba:;yard Taylor's Dream of Home. ... 37 
ASSUMED NAMES OF AUTHORS AND 

WRITERS 39 

SHORT AND SWEET SAYINGS 47 

WISE AS WELL AS WITTY 49 

"Bill Nye's" Philosophy 50 

The Spelling Bee (John S. Dapcr) . . 52 

Some of "Rose" Field's Conclusions 53 
George Ade and the Modern Sort of 

Fable 56 

Mr. Bowser and the North Pole 58 

How to Get Rid of Burglars 62 

ANECDOTES OF GREAT ORATORS. ... 65 

Stories Told of and by Lincoln 74 

AFTER-DINNER SPEECHES 77 

Grover Cleveland Says "Push" 77 

Mark Twain's Account of It 79 

President McKinley on "Dangers of 

Empire" 82 

What to Do With Ex-Presidents (By 

Ex-Prcsidcnt Benjamin Harrison) . . 84 
Bright Things Senator Depew Has 

Said 85 

Government and the People (By Gen- 
eral David B. Henderson) 92 

Means Freedom for Filipinos (By Pres- 
ident Seth Lozu, of Columbia Univer- 
sity) 92 

Should Always Be Ready for War (By 

General Joseph Wheeler, U.S.A.).. 94 
It is America's Century (By United 

States Senator A. J. Beveridge) .... 95 

Senator Cullom and Patriotism 95 

Tenth Marriage Anniversary 96 

ORIGIN OF WORLD FAVORITES...... 97 

"America" (Rev. Dr. Samuel F. 

Smith) 97 



page 
ORIGIN OF WORLD FAVORITES— Contd. 

"Praise God, From Whom All Bless- 
ings Flow" (Thos. Ken) 98 

"Hold the Fort" (P. P. Bliss) 98 

"That Sweet Story of Old" (Mrs. 

Jemima Luke) 100 

"Darling Nellie Gray" (Ben R. 
Hamby) loi 

"Watchman, Tell Us of the Night" 

(Sir John Bowering) loi 

"Guide Me, O Thou Great Jehovah" 

( William Williams) 103 

In "The Sweet By-and-By" (Ben- 
nett) 104 

"I Want To Be An Angel" (Mrs. 

Sydney P. Gill) 104 

"From Greenland's Icy Mountains" 

(Reginald Heber) 106 

"Nearer, My God, To Thee" (Mrs. 
Sarah Flozver Adams) 107 

"Suwanee River" (Stephen C. Fos- 
ter) 108 

"The Star-Spangled Banner" (P. 

Barton Key) no 

A Veritable Poem of Poems iii 

"Home, Sweet Home" (John Hoiv- 

ard Payne) 113 

The Kings of England 114 

"Jesus, My All to Heaven Has Gone" 

(John Cennick) 115 

"Rock of Ages" (Augustus Montague 

Toplady) 116 

"The Two Angels" (Longfelloiv) . . . 118 

"Lord, Dismiss Lis With Thy Bless- 
ing" ( JValter Shirley) 118 

Sheridan's Ride (Thos. Buchanan 
Read) 119 

"Father, Whate'er of Earthly Bliss" 

(Mrs. Steele) 122 

The Maple Leaf Forever ;... 123 

Origin of Familiar Songs 126 

In Praise of Music 127 

Maxims from Gothe 129 

Meaning of National Names 131 



13 



M 



TABLE OF CONTENTS 



PAGE 

ORIGIN OF WORLD FAVORITES— Contd. 
The Human Countenance as Seen by 

Dickens I35 

The Deserted Cottage : A Peasant 

Woman's Story 137 

Philosophy of Life: From Famous 

Thinkers 141 

NAPOLEON: TRIBUTES FROM THE 

POETS 142 

Napoleon's Last Request 142 

Napoleon 143 

The Prisoner of St. Helena 143 

Napoleon's Midnight Review 145 

SOME BEAUTIFUL THOUGHTS 147 

SCRIPTURAL PROVERBS AND QUO- 
TATIONS ..155 

APT, APPROPRIATE AND INSTRUC- 
TIVE 157 

' Selections for Readings or Recitations 157 
Birth of Another Century {John 

Coulter) 157 

Passing of the Old Year (G. D. Pren- 
tice) 159 

Watching the New Year In {Eugene 

Field) 160 

The Old Year and the New {Tenny- 
son) 160 

VARIOUS NATIONAL HOLIDAYS i6t 

Canada's Birthday {Agnes Maul 

Machar) 161 

Dominion Day {John Reade) 162 

Here's to the Land {JVilliam Wye 

Smith ) 163 

The Men of the Northern Zone 

{Robert ICernigan) 163 

Ever Welcome May Day 164 

Easter Song {Franees Sherman) .... 164 

A Spring Song (/. Stuart Thomson) 165 

Gladness at Easter Time 165 

Thanksgiving Peculiarly American. . 167 
The Two Great Flags {Hubert M. 

Skinner) 167 

Why We are Thankful 168 

Charm of the Christmas Time 168 

JUST A MENTION OF THE SEASONS. . 169 

Spring {Jean Blezvetf) 170 

April in the Hills {Archibald Tamp- 

man) 171 

June is Coming {Thomas O'Hagan) 171 

August Belong to the Girls 172 

Last Month of Autumn 172 

October Heralds the Frosty Season. 173 



PAGE 

THE SEASONS— Continued. 

How Thansgiving Day Came About 173 
The Saviour Came to Us in Decem- 
ber 17-5 

All Children Know This Story.... 174 
Hymns of the Christmastide {Sears) 174 
How We Spent Christmas {Julia 

JValcott) 174 

The Convict's Christmas Eve {Will 

Carleton) 175 

A Tender, Welcome Greeting 179 

"Long 'Fore I Knowed Who Santy- 

Clause Wuz" 180 

A Christmas Eve Adventure 180 

He Got the Best of Old "Santy" 

(John Bronmjohn) 181 

To a Christmas Pudding 184 

ALL SORTS OF HUMOR....- 184 

Flow Canada Was Discovered 184 

Mr. Caudle's Second Wife {Jerrold) 187 
"Gone With a Handsomer Man" 

{Carleton) igo 

The Sweet Girl on the Wire 193 

Tribute to the "Old Boys" {Holmes) 195 

The Baby's First Tooth 196 

Having Fun With European Guides 

{Twain) 198 

Wail of the Overcoatless Man 200 

Reflections of "The Inspired Idiot". . 201 
She Is Now Head of the House. .. . 204 

Mame's Entrance Into Society 205 

Mr. Spoopendyke Surprises His 

Wife 207 

"Got Stripes Down His Legs" {E. L. 

Sabin) 209 

Both Had Been Rejected 209 

PATHETIC AND HOMELIKE 211 

Death of an Outcast 211 

It Was Only a Dream {IV. S. Lord) 211 

If We Only Knew 212 

President Lincoln's Favorite Poem. . 212 
"Take Keer of Yourse'f" {James W. 

Riley) 213 

Fought with Grant and Lee 214 

Taking a Look Backward 216 

"Rock Me to Sleep, Mother" {Elisa- 
beth Akers) 217 

She Was the Preacher's Mother.... 217 
Little Boy Blue {Eugene Field) .... 218 
Only the Baby Cried for Lorraine 

{Kingley) 219 

Tim Went Straight Home 21-9 




JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL, poet, lecturer and diplomat, is given high place among 
the eminent literary geniuses of the Nineteenth Century. He was sent to Spain and 
England to represent the United States at Madrid and London, and his labors there were 
of the utmost advantage and benefit to this country. Among his poetic productions the 
"Vision of Sir Launfal" and the "Biglow Papers" are the best known. Many of his essays 
were written while occupying the chair, of modern languages and literature at Harvard 
University. He was born at Cambridge, Massachusetts, in 1819, and died there in 1891. 




JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER, the Poet of Freedom, is dear to every American; 
he wrote for the human heart, for the affections, wrote of pure love and sweet affection. 
His poem about the little girl, who was his sweetheart in his school days, will live as long- 
as language itself. The first line, "Still sits the school house by the road," recalls sweet 
memories of childhood's happy days. He was born in Massachusetts in 1807 and died in 
1892. A life well spent and full of honor. 



M^ 



TABLE OF CONTENTS. 



17 



PAGE 

PATHETIC AND HOMELIKE— Contd. 

We Simply Say, "Good-Bye" 223 

Just Two Wee Shoes 223^ 

"Room for a Tired Little Fellow".. 224 

One Touch of Nature 224 

A Child's Dream of a Star (Dickens) 224 

Was Merely "Whisperin' Bill" 227 

Old and Blind (Milton) 229 

RELIGIOUS AND SUBLIME 231 

Consolation of Religion (Moore) .... 231 

The Books of the Bible 231 

Curious Literary Composition 232 

Charity as Defined by the Bible 233 

Morning Hymn in Paradise (Milton) 223 

Psalm XXIV 233 

Immortality (Dana) 234 

Nearer Home (Phoebe Cary) 234 

There is No Death (/. L. McCreery) 235 

"Lest We Forget" (Kipling) 235 

White Lives for Men and Women 

(F. E. Willard) 237 

Education Necessary for Women 

(Mrs. E. C. Stanton) 237 

Some of Moody's Sayings 239 

Sam Jones on Shining Lights 241 

Adoration of the Creator (Psalms) 242 
A Creed Good Enough for All (Alice 

Cary) 242 

Prayers That Were Answered (E. 

W. Wilcox ) 243 

Bible Reading (/. W. Shoemaker) . . 243 
Angels Should Ring Christmas Bells 

(Rankin) 245 

The Manger of Betlilehem 246 

What the Cynic Sees (Beecher) .... 246 

IN A SENTIMENTAL STRAIN 248 

"Death of Little Nell" (Dickens) ... 248 
Jean Anderson, My Joy, Jean (Ran- 
kin) 249 

"Betsy and I Are Out" (Carlcton) . . 250 
Betsy Destroys the Paper (Carleton) 253 

Katie Lee and Willie Gray 254 

They Were Married Shortly After 

That 255 

Lingering Lovers Fnially Parted.... 256 
The Boy on the Back- Yard Fence. .. 257 
Dear, Coquettish Kathie Morris.... 257 

The Might of Love 260 

Rose to a Higher Life 261 

Whenever You Welcome the Hour 

(Moore) 262 

Where True Happiness Reigns 264 



PAGE 

IN A SENTIMENTAL STRAIN— Contd. 
He Had to Do His Duty (/. Edgar 

Jones) 264 

Little Meg and I . 265 

Evening at the Farm (Trowbridge) . 267 
My Bed is a Boat (R. L. Stevenson) 267 

JEWELS OF PATRIOTISM 269 

Canada (Charles G. D. Roberts)... 270 
The Future of Canada (Edmund 

Collins) 272 

Empire First (/. Talon-Sesperance) 272 
Song for Canada (Charles Songster) 273 
Canadian Aristocracy (Edivard 

Blake) 273 

This Canada of Ours (James David 

Edgar) 274 

The Olden Flag (Mrs. Macleod) ... 274 
The Maple Tree (Alex. McLachlan) 276 
My Own Canadian Home (E. G. 

Nelson) 276 

The Future of Canada 277 

Jacques Cartier (Thomas D'Arcy 

McGce) 278 

How Canada Was Saved (Geo. Mur- 
ray) 279 

The Battle of Grand Pre (M. J. 

Katyiiian Laivson) 281 

Tecumseh's Death (Major Richard- 
son) 283 

Along the Line (Thomas D'Arcy 

McGee) 284 

In the Northwest— 1885 (William 

Wilfred Cambpell) 284 

Lord Dufferin's Tribute to Queen 

Victoria 285 

The Charge of the Cavalry 286 

Reflections on a Battlefield (W. C. 

Bryant) 287 

Fontenoy 288 

Por the Empire (Eustace H. K. 

Cochin) 289 

Your Countny's Call (O. W. Holmes) 289 

PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL 291 

"Mother's Old Arm Chair".... 291 

Grandma Working 'Monst Her 

Flowers (L. R. Hamberlin) . . . . 291 
Rain on the Roof (Coates Kinney) . . 292 
Over the River They Beckon (Nancy 

A. W. Priest) 293 

Beautiful Annabel Lee (Edgar A. 

Poe) 294 

Isle of the Long Ago 294 



i8 



TABLE OF CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL— Continued. 
Life's Battle Near an End (Wayne 

Howe Parsons) 295 

The Voices of the Bells (£. A. Poe) 295 
" 'Twas Twenty Years Ago, Tom" 

(Stephen Marsell) 296 

The Round of Life (Alexander La- 

niont) 297 

Truest Friends Must Part 297 

Keep a Stiff Upper Lip (James 

Whitcomb Riley) 298 

Waiting for the Coming Millions (S. 

IV. Foss) 298 

He Found the Model Church 299 

A Handful of Earth (Celia Thaxter) 300 
Back Where They Used To Be.... 301 
"Who Shall Ride the Dapple- Mare?" 

(/. G. Saxe) 302 

The Foolish Maiden's New Bonnet. . 304 
"Rough Ben" (Kate B. Simpson) . . 304 
Sugar Making (R. S. G. Anderson) . 306 
The Second Concession of Deer 

( William Wye Smith) 307 

Ca' Me "Scotty !" (John Imrie) 308 

The Homes of England (Felicia D. 

Hemans) 309 

To Mary in Heaven (Robert Burns) 309 
Somebody's Darling (Anonymous) . 300 

Hamlet's Soliloquy on Death 310 

Death of Paul Dombey (Charles 

Dickens) 311 

Widow Malone (Charles Lever).... 312 
Sam Smith's Soliloquy on Matri- 
mony (Fanny Fern) 313 

The Smack in School (William Pitt 

Palmer) 314 

How Tom Sawyer Got His Fence 
Whitewcished (Extract from "The 
Adventures of Tom Sazvyer," by 

Mark Tiuain) 314 

On the Other Train 316 

Little Boy Blue (Eugene Field) .... 317 
The Song of the Camp (Bayard Tay- 
lor) 317 

Irish Coquetry 318 

Baby Sleeps 318 

Specially Jim 319 

The Rock-a-By Lady (Eugene Field) 319 

Mercy (Shakespeare) 319 

The' Children's Hour (Henry W. 

Longfellozv) 320 

Gradation (7. G. Holland) 320 

Guilty or Not Guilty 321 



PAGE 

PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL— Continued. 

My Creed (Alice Gary) 322 

The Grand March (Moira O'Neill) . 322 
Mother's Birthday (Mrs. C. G. A. 

Benjamin ) 323 

The Dawn of Peace (John Ruskin) . 324 
The Prayer of Self (Priscilla Leon- 
ard) 324 

Maud Muller (John Greenleaf Whit- 
tier) 325 

The Vagabonds (/. T. Trowbridge) . 327 
The Old Oaken Bucket (Samuel 

Woodworth) 328 

Thanatopsis (William Cullen Bryant) 329 

Cradle Song (/. G. Holland) 331 

The Launching of the Ship (Long- 
fellow) 331 

God's Acre (Longfellozv) 332 

Little Breeches (John Hay) 333 

Woodman, Spare That Tree (G. P. 

Morris) 334 

The Doorstep (E. C. Stedman) 334 

Roll On, Thou Deep and Dark Blue 

Ocean (Lord Byron) 335 

O, Why Should the Spirit of Mortal 

Be Proud ? (W. Knox) 335 

The Enquiry (Charles Mackay) . . . . 337 

The Creeds of the Bells 337 

The Last Leaf (O. W. Holmes) 339 

Jest 'Fore Christmas 339 

H We Knew 340 

We Parted in Silence (Mrs. Craw- 
ford) : 341 

The Isle of Long Ago (B. F. Taylor) 341 
Home, Sweet Home (John Hozvard 

Payne) 342 

Over the River (Nancy Woodbury 

Priest) 342 

Two Women (N. P. Willis) 343 

The Old Bachelor (Ernest McGaffey) 343 
Look Aloft (/. Lawrence, Jr.) .... 344 
Love's Philosophy (P. B. Shelley) . . 344 
A Song of Long Ago (/. W. Riley) . 345 
The Foreground (Bernard McEvoy) 345 

Beautiful Hands (/. W. Riley) 346 

The Sailor's Sweetheart (S. M. 

Peck) 346 

The Men Who Lose (G. H. Broad- 
hurst) 347 

The Unremembered Harvester (A. J. 
Stringer) 347 

The Cure's Progress (Austin Dob- 
son) 348 



TAliLE OF CONTENTS. 



19 



PAGE 

PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL— Continued. 

God's Little Girl (Bertha G. Davis) . 349 

Faith (Frank Lazvson) 349 

The Snowshoer (Theodore Roberts) 350 
This Canada of Ours (C. A. Bram- 
ble) 350 

Niagara Falls (Abraham Lincoln).. 351 
Walkin' Home With Mary (Joe Lin- 
coln) 352 

The King's Flagon (Franklin Gads- 

by) 353 

Mandalay (Rudyard Kipling) 355 

St. Patrick's Birthday 356 

As Slow Our Ship (Thomas Moore) 356 

Oh! Bairnies, Cuddle Doon 357 

The Man With the Hoe (Edivin 

Markham ) 357 

The Man With the Hoe (Not by 

Markham) 358 

To Sleep (Alfred Tennyson) 359 

Those Evening Bells (Thomas.... 

Moore) 35 

The Long Ago (B. F. Taylor) 360 

The Weaver 360 

Jack's Ploughing (Mabelle P. Clapp) 361 
Indian Summer (E. IV. Mason) ... . 361 
Wouldn't You? (Henrietta R. Elliot) 362 

Mother Love 362 

The Eventide of Life (B. Kelly) .... 363 
Under the Mistletoe (B. K. Daniels) 2>6t, 
A Serious Question (Carolyn Wells) 363 
DIALOGUES, TABLEAUX AND HOME ^ 

ENTERTAINMENTS 365 

Man's Unconscious Selfishness 365 

Having "An Axe to Grind" 367 

The Loving Wife's Mistake (Brander 

Matthews) 369 

How to Act Shadow Pictures 37;^, 

Mother Goose, Little Geese and 

"Brer" Fox (Anna .1/. Ford) . . 375 
Suggestions for Pretty Talileaux. . . . :i77 

How the Census Is Taken 377 

Pat Had a Good Excuse 380 

Playing Store 382 

Be Polite 383 

The Snow Brigade 383 

Looking Ahead 384 

Tom's Practical Joke 385 

The Rainy Day 387 

SELECTIONS FOR THE CHILDREN... 389 

"Nobody's Child" 389 

The Snow is Falling 390 

Something About February 390 



PAGE 

SELECTIONS FOR CHILDREN— Contd. 

June, Finest of Months 390 

The Months of the Year 391 

How to Remember the Calendar.... 391 

Lily's May-Day Ball 393 

March is Calling to You 393 

The First Day of Spring 394 

Song of the April Shower 394 

You Should Paddle Your Own Canoe 

(Mrs. Sarah Bolton) 394 

Why Can't Girls Whistle ? 395 

The Bravest Battle Ever Fought 

(Joaquin Miller) 395 

No Place for a Boy to Go 396 

God Wants the Girls 396 

What the Golden-Rod Said 396 

If I were a Rose 396 

How the Children are Taught 397 

Just a Glance at the Baby 397 

Patience Will Work Wonders 397 

Wliat Little Things Can Do 398 

A Song for Your Birthday 39S 

Have Only Good Words for All. .. . 398 

Watching Baby As It Sleeps 398 

When the Children Would Cry 399 

Two Kinds of Pollywogs (Augusta 

Moon) 399 

What the Big Sun Sees (R. L. Ste- 

z'enson) 399 

The Moon Man's Mistake 400 

Never There When Wanted 400 

A Gentleman (Margaret E. Sang- 

ster) 400 

What a Lot of Presents 400 

Just One of the Boys 401 

Hours Have Too Few Minutes 

(Priscilla Leonard) 401 

"Just Come Here and Scratch" 401 

Keeping School in Play (I-Cate Ul- 

mer) 402 

"There Is a Santa Claus" (W. B. 

Rcid) 402 

She Didn't Want Much (Grace Gor-' 
don) 403 

Always Trouble Sunday Morning 

(H. D. Robbins) 403 

- Jack, the Little Torment 404 

Fate of the Discontented Chicken 

(A. G. Waters) 404 

Take Warning By Idle Ben 405 

The Hole He Had in His Pocket 

(Sidney Dayre) 405 

Story of the Money-Making Cobbler. 405 



20 



TABLE OF CONTENTS 



I'AGE 

SELFXTIONS FOR CHILDREN— Contd. 

Couldn't Do Without Bessie 406 

She Got Tired of Popping Corn... 406 

Waiting at the Ladder's Foot 407 

She Sang to Him of Heaven (/. f. 

Nichols) 408 

About Ready to Show Off 410 

The Geography Demon 410 

Golden Hair 411 

"The Moon-Man" (Elma Bingcinan) 412 

A Child's Plea 413 

My Little Boy {Cecil Joyce) 413 

"One, Two, Three" {H. C. Bunner) . 414 
Rock-a-Bye Boat (Emeline G'oorfroTt; ) 415 

Moonrise - 315 

Moonrise 415 

Dolly in Sickness 416 

A Laugh in Church 416 

In the Firelight (Eugene Field) .... 417 

The Doll's Wedding (Kate Allyii) . . 417 

AMERICAN ORATIONS. . .• ." 419 

Lincoln's Speech at Gettysburg 419 

Webster in Reply to Hayne 421 

Blaine's Tribute to Garfield 432 

Theodore Parker on Greatness 427 

Man Superior to All Created Things 429 

Edward Everett on Education 430 

• What a Judge Should Be 431 

Senator Depew and Railroad Men.. 433 

Cough's Warning to Young Men. .. . 434 

Mary, the Mother of Jesus 436 

Henry George on the Producer and 

Consumer 437 

Wm. McKinley on the Martyred 

President 441 

Emerson on "The Soul's Providence" 445 

Mr. Bryan's Greatest Oration 451 



PAGE 

C.\NAD1 AN ORATIONS 453 

Sir Francis Hincks on Imperial Fed- 
eration 453 

Dr. Ryerson on Social Progress.... 455 
Joseph Howe on Anglo-Saxon Rela- 
tions 457 

D'Arcy McGee on Confederation.... 459 

Confederation 463 

George Brown on Confederation.... 467 
The Eloquence of Edward Blake. .. . 469 
Two Speeches by the Hon. Alexan- 
der Mackenzie 471 

St. Jean Baptiste Society 474 

Lord Lome on de Salaberry 477 

The Dualty of Language and Race. . 479 
The Founders of Upper Canada.... 481 
Lieut. -Col. Denison on Imperial Fed- 
eration 483 

The Greatness of Our Heritage 487 

Sir Wm. Dawson on the Future Life 489 

Canada's Proud Position 491 

Canada's National Spirit 493 

Archbishop Machray's Tribute to the 

Queen 495 

George E. Foster on Patriotism.... 499 

Canada's Duty to the Empire 499 

Ireland, Canada and the Empire 503 

Joseph flowe's London Impressions. 507 

ENGLISH ORATIONS 509 

Lord Salisbury on Protection 509 

Rosebery on Questions of Empire. . 511 
Joseph Chamberlain on Imperial Con- 
solidation 513 

Gladstone on Home Rule 515 

Beaconsficld on Education 517 




ww^^WS^ 



^"^■^s"^ 



"SS^-^i^ 




HARRIET BEFXHER STOWE, sister of Henry Ward Beecher and author of "Uncle 
Tom's Cabin," a work which has been translated into nearly every language on earth, did 
more, in all probability, to arouse the people regarding slavery than any other person. It is 
somewhat surprising to learn that for two years or more Mrs. Stowe could not find a 
publisher to take chances and issue the book. When it finally came out the sales were 
phenomenal. Within a year fully a million copies were taken in the United States and 
Great Britain. She was a native of Connecticut, born in t8i2, and died in 1896. 




WALTER— "WALT"— WHITMAN, the "Good Gray Poet," had a love for humanity 
and nature which was ever abiding. Whitman learned the printer's trade, taught school, 
and during the Civil War, from 1862 until 1865, nursed the sick and wounded soldiers in the 
hospitals and at the front. Whitman was a poet of broad sensibilities, humanitarian impulses 
and boundless affection. Whitman loved to wander in the woods and fields, delighting in 
everything, finally embalming his joyousness in verse. Among his productions, "Leaves of 
Grass" is the most familiar. He was borh on Long Island in 1819, and died in 1892. 



HOMES OF SOME LOVED POETS. 



t^*' t^i V* 




ITH Longfellow can be associated 
with interest three homes — two in 
Portland, Me., his birthplace and his 
second home. Of the first little can be said 
in connection with his life, more than its 
being his birthplace, as so short a period 
of it was spent there. It is a four-story 
frame of square pattern, and it was built 
more for room than elegance. It is now 
a tenement house. Quite an amusing in- 
cident is told of an answer given one of the 
Portland teachers when she asked a class 
where Mr. Longfellow was born. A bright 
little fellow's hand went up and his answer 
was "In Patsy Milligan's bed-room." While 
the boy was correct, as the said Mr. Milli- 
gan was at the time occupying part of the 
house and had as his bedroom the one in 
which Mr, Longfellow was born, the state- 
ment seemed so laughable that it soon be- 
came a standing story told to each visitor. 

In this house were spent many of the 
days of his youth, and in it were written 
some of his choicest productions. To the 
right as you face the house, the second- 
story front room is the one in which the 
"Rainy Day" was written. That alone 
makes it worth quite a pilgrimage to see, 
and if ever you should be near Portland, 
Me., by all means make his birthplace and 
home a visit, and you will be more than 
repaid. 

The world of to-day and for all time to 
come will almost universally associate Mr. 
Longfellow with his last home — the one 
at Cambridge, Mass. Here he spent about 
forty years of his life and gathered about 



ZZ 



him those treasures and gifts which make 
his home such an interesting place to visit. 

"Craigie House" stands on Brattle Street, 
and has a history. Built about the middle 
of the eighteenth century, it passed from 
owner to owner, each of whom was widely 
noted in his day and way, and has contin- 
ually been a house of public notice. Pos- 
sibly more exciting events occurred within 
its walls while in the possession of its 
former owners, but the sweetest memories 
cluster around it since 1843, the time Mr. 
Longfellow bought it. The first owner was 
Colonel John Vassol, a gentleman of dis- 
tinction, and it remained in his possession 
until after the Revolutionary War. For a 
time General Washington made the house 
his headquarters, and Mrs. Washington 
held a number of formal receptions there. 
"Lady Washington's Drawing-room" has 
ever since retained the prominence she 
gave it. 

From Colonel Vassol the house passed 
into the hands of Thomas Tracy, who gave 
it the name of Vassol Hall. Mr. Tracy was 
a man given to the pursuits of pleasure, to 
the detriment of all business prosperity, 
and great are the tales that are handed 
down of the banquets and balls held there 
during his time. When next we hear of it, 
it was owned by Andrew Craigie. The 
expense of maintaining the 200 acres was 
too much for his means, and he was forced 
to sell all but eight acres. Originally it was 
a brick house, but in later years it was in- 
cased in wood, which is painted in buflf. 
The doors, the balustrade on the roof, and 



34 



HOMES OF SOME LOVED POETS. 



the four pilasters are all of white, which 
blends into a beautiful relief. It stands 
upon a quaintly terraced lawn in the shade 
of the wide-spreading elms, and a broad 
veranda runs on each side, and upon the 
door is the old traditional brass knocker. 
Entering the w^ainscoted hall with its broad 
stairway and oddly twisted baluster, the 
first door on the right opens into a most 
interesting room, the poet's study. This is 
indeed a storehouse of rare treasure; the 
walls on three sides covered with old-fash- 
ioned paper, while the fourth is wholly 
wainscoted. An excellent view is had 
from one of the windows of the beautiful 
Charles River. Here, there, and every- 
where are treasures and presents, many 
with an interesting history — one of which 
is a book-case containing original manu- 
scripts of his work, handsomely and appro- 



priately bound. It is one of the most in- 
teresting objects to us in the whole house, 
and we can but linger a moment in looking 
it over. We gaze with admiring wonder 
upon the days, weeks, and months of labor 
they represent. An inkstand of the poet 
Crabbe, which was once owned by Tom 
Moore ; another, once the property of Cole- 
ridge. These keep company with Mr. 
Longfellow's own and the last he used, be- 
side which are his quills. These we find 
on the center table with many books, pho- 
tographs, and letters, aranged to our poet's 
own taste in a "sweet disorder." A chair 
made from a part of the chestnut tree un- 
der which the "Village Smithy" stood, pre- 
sented to him on his seventy-second birth- 
day by the children of Cambridge, stands 
near a writing desk. 



JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL'S ELMWOOD. 



POETIC halo seems to surround the 
staid old town of Cambridge. James 
Russell Lowell, deeply in love with Nature 
as he was, found his home in Elmwood as 
fair a spot for his meditations as heart 
could wish. Here no skill of the florist's 
handicraft is seen, but unmolested Nature 
has had full sway, and well has she done 
her work. Longfellow's beautiful surround- 
ings, the well-kept lawn, perfectly trimmed 
hedge and profusion of flowers do not sur- 
pass the rural and rustic beauty of Elm- 
wood. It stands about half a mile west of 
Harvard Square, on the base line of a tri- 
angle, the apex of which almost reaches to 
the gate of Mount Auburn Cemetery. 
From the road only the gables and chim- 
neys can be seen, over the shrubbery and 
through the trees, so closely hemmed in 
is the stately old mansion. 

An abundance of sturdy native and En- 
glish elms (from which it takes its name) 



abound over the entire grounds, and so 
affectionately do they caress the house on 
every side as to greatly shelter it from the 
intrusion of sun and storm 

The house is a frame, of three stories, of 
the old Revolutionary pattern, built just 
before the breaking out of the struggle for 
freedom with the mother country, and for a 
Mr. Oliver, the last loyal Lieutenant-Gov- 
ernor of the Province of Massachusetts. 
When war was fairly opened Mr. Oliver 
returned to England, and the house be- 
came the property of Elbridge Gerry, who 
was one of the signers of the Declaration 
of Independence, and later Governor of 
Massachusetts and Vice-President of the 
United States. From Governor Gerry's 
estate. Rev. Charles Lowell, father of 
James Russell, bought the place, and here, 
on the 22d of February, 1819, was bom the 
poet. By Rev. Lowell were most of the 
elms planted, and by him was it given its 




THE LIBRARY IN A HAPPY HOME. 



36 



HOMES OF SOME. LOVED POETS. 



name. Although over a century old, it 
stands to-day, with no sign of decay. It 
was erected by honest and masterly hands. 
The body of the house is painted buff, the 
balustrade and eaves are white, the shut- 
ters are dark green. 

If we could visit the interior, we would 
again see the contrast between the two 



poets' homes on Brattle Street, m Cam- 
bridge — for Mr. Longfellow and Mr. Low- 
ell lived on the same street — we would find 
a library well filled, and a study, the former 
on the first floor, the latter in the third 
story, up among the branches of the trees, 
where best he could see and enjoy Nature 
while at his work. 



WHITTIER HAD THREE HOMES. 



fOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER, 
like Longfellow, is associated with 
three homes — his birth-place, near Haver- 
hill, Mass.; at Amesbury, and his last home 
at "Oak Knoll," near Danvers, Mass. 
Whittier, in describing his first home, says: 

"Within our beds awhile we heard 
The wind that round the gables roared, 
With now and then a ruder shock, 
Which made our very bedsteads rock. 
We heard the loosened clapboards tost. 
The brad nails snapping in the frost. 
And on us through the unplastered wall. 
Felt the light-sifted snow-flakes fall. 
But sleep stole on as sleep will do. 
When hearts are Hght and life is new." 

This, from "Snow-Bound," gives a faint 
idea of it. In that poem Mr. Whittier de- 
scribes in beautiful language his birth- 



place. Its great age has brought it some- 
what into decay in recent years, yet many 
of the old familiar landmarks remain. In 
the simple, exquisite and neat little house 
in Amesbury were spent the best days of 
his life, and here were written most of those 
moral, political, and pastoral poems that 
have made Mr. Whittier known wherever 
the English language is spoken. The 
house, plain and neat, is situated in the out- 
skirts of the town, pleasantly surrounded 
by shrubs and trees. Near it stands a 
Quaker meeting-house, where Mr. Whit- 
tier loved to attend worship. The road 
leading from town winds by his house, on 
past the church, close by shady trees, and 
out into the beautiful and boundless coun- 
try. In the rear rolls the picturesque Mer- 
rimac through woody hills away to the 
ocean. All combined form indeed a pretty 
picture and a lovely spot to call home. 



WHERE BRYANT LIVED AND V/ROTE. 



HE home of William Cullen Bryant, 
which we associate him with since 
his death, is "Cedarmere," at Roslyn, L. I., 
a small village of less than i,ooo people, in 
Queens County, N. Y., on the Sound, 
about twenty-five miles from New York 
City, which is most accessibly made by a 
steamer that daily plies to the great me- 
tropolis and return. The birth-place and 
early home of Mr. Bryant was Cumming- 
ton, Mass., a village of about the same size 



as Roslyn. His first home was an unpre- 
tentious one, with no marked difference 
from any other of the houses of the town, 
and Mr. Bryant left it too early in his life 
to give it much interest as his home, while 
his poetic genius was given to and appre- 
ciated by the public. While he had pro- 
duced a number of his masterpieces prior 
to 1825, at that time dated the beginning 
of his literary career proper. 

"Cedarmere" seems the most appropriate 



HOMES OF SOME LOVED POETS. 



37 



place for our beloved and gifted idol. Were 
you to make it a visit and not know its 
history, you, of an imaginative turn of 
mind, would instinctively say, "What a 
grand old place, just the spot for a poet's 
retreat, from the busy whirl of the outer 
world, where he can give free rein to his 
choicest thoughts." Indeed it is the old- 
fashioned house, buried in a labyrinth of 
foliage, gives it the ideal charm of the 
most soaring flights of an intelligent im- 
agination. Having seen the bloom and 
decay of many summers, Nature, guided 
by the skilled hand of the landscape gar- 
dener, has truly done her work well and 
made "Cedarmere" the idol of our poet's 
eye. A lover and student and writer of 
Nature as he was, the pleasant days he 
spent there are proverbial of the love he 
had for the place. 

In such circumstances, do we wonder 



that poetic inspiration of the highest type 
was at his command? We who love him 
are glad to know that under these circum- 
stances that he so much loved, and that 
gave him such beneficial rest, he was per- 
mitted more than thirty years to live, and 
when 

"His summons came to join 
The innumerable caravan that moves 
To that mysterious realm, 
Like one who wraps the drapery of his 

couch 
About him and lies down to pleasant 

dreams," 

Nature folded her poet in her own bosom, 
and the grass and the leaves, his near 
neighbors in life, are still the same as he 
sleeps his long and peaceful rest in the lit- 
tle Roslyn graveyard. 



BAYARD TAYLOR'S DREAM OF HOME. 



The words of John Howard Payne : 

*' 'Mid pleasures and palaces though we 

may roam, 
Be it ever so humble there's no place like 

home; 
A charm from the sky seems to hallow us 

there, 
Which seek through the world is not met 

with elsewhere," 

found a responsive chord in the heart of 
Bayard Taylor. Through all the struggles 
of his early life his eyes had been fixed on 
a piece of ground just opposite the Taylor 
homestead. It had been his day-dream to 
possess it, and many were the air-castles he 
built upon it. At last the dream became a 
reality, and "Cedar Croft" was the reward 
of sixteen years of diligent labor. It stands 
opposite his birth-place — Kennett Square, 
Chester County, Pa. The ground is bor- 
dered with tall trees, enclosing a beautiful 
undulating plot. A piece of ground thus 



enclosed is often termed in England a 
croft; and as many of the trees were cedar, 
Mr. Taylor christened his home "Cedar 
Croft." It is a large, comfortable country 
house, on the highest elevation in the 
grounds, which slope away in natural ter- 
races to a beautiful level bordering on the 
road. The observatory, or look-out, en- 
ables one to have a magnificent view of 
the surrounding country, and the scene is 
indeed charming. 

The grounds have all the attractiveness 
of a modern and elegant country-seat. By 
symmetrical walks you pass tastefully laid 
out flower-beds, and reach the orchard and 
grapery. A little farther on the pond at the 
end of the grounds; coming on down to 
the roadside, you can follow in the shade of 
a belt of trees up to the drive which takes 
you to the base of the observatory. All 
in all, the spot seems intended by nature 
for seclusion. 




A SOUTHERN HOME OF LITERARY REFINEMENT. 




ASSUMED NAMES OF AUTHORS AND WRITERS. 

<!?• t^* (5* 

ANY authors and writers, for reasons satisfactory to themselves, do not append 
their own names to their productions but use a nom de plume. When Mrs. James 
Parton, wife of the historian, was alive, many people thought ''Fanny Fern" was her 
real name, and, in fact, had never heard of Mrs. Parton. George Sand was never 
known as Mme. Dudevant; more people have heard of Mark Twain than Samuel L. 
Clemens; George Eliot is not remembered as Mrs. Cross; Gail Harnilton is rarely re- 
ferred to as Miss Abigail Dodge; Ned Buntline was E. C. Z. Judson to but few, and 
none of the boys who read Oliver Optic's books ever cared to learn that his real name 
was W. T. Adams. They preferred Oliver Optic. 

ASSUMED NAME. REAL NAME. 

A Country Parson Archbishop Whateley. 

Acton Bell Anne Bronte, sister of Charlotte. 

Agate Whitelaw Reid. 

A. K. H. B Rev. A. K. H. Boyd. 

Alfred Crowquill A. H. Forrester. 

A. L. O. E Mrs. Charlotte Tucker. 

Americus Dr. Francis Lieber. 

Amy Lothrop Miss Anna B. Warner. 

American Girl Abroad.. Miss Trafton. 

Artemus Ward Charles F. Browne. 

Asa Trenchard Henry Watterson. 

Aunt Kitty Maria J. Macintosh. 

Aunt Mary Mary A. Lathbury. 

Barnacle ; .A. C. Barnes. 

Barry Cornwall . Bryan Waller Procter. 

Benauly Benjamin, Austin, and Lyman Abbott. 

Besieged Resident Henry Labouchere. 

Bibliophile Samuel Austin Allibone. 

Bill Arp Charles H. Smith. 

Blythe White, Jr Solon Robinson. 

Bookworm Thomas F. Donnelly. 

Boston Bard Robert S. Cofifin. 

Boz Charles Dickens. 

Brick Pomeroy Mark M. Pomeroy. 

Burleigh . Rev. Matthew Hale Smith. 

Burlington Robert Saunders. 

Charles Egbert Craddock Miss Murfree. 

- 39 



40. ASSUMED NAMES. 

ASSUMED NAME. REAL NAME. 

Christopher Crowfield Mrs. Harriet Beecher Stowe. 

Chrystal Croftangry • Sir Walter Scott. 

Claribel Mrs. CaroUne Barnard. 

Country Parson A. K. H. Boyd. 

Cousin Alice Mrs. Alice B. Haven. 

Chartist Parson Rev. Charles Kingsley. 

Carl Benson • . . ^ Charles A. Bristed. 

Cousin Kate Catherine D. Bell. 

Chinese Philosopher Oliver Goldsmith. 

Currer Bell Charlotte Bronte (Mrs. Nichols). 

'^Danbury News Man". J. M. Bailey. 

Diedrich Knickerbocker , Washington Irving. 

Dolores Miss Dickson. 

Dooley » . . • • F- P- Dunne. 

Dow, Jr «....• Elbridge G. Page. 

Dr. Syntax. - William Combe. 

Dunn Browne Rev. Samuel Fiske. 

E. D. E. N Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. 

Edmund Kirke James Roberts Gilmore. 

Eleanor Kirke ....... . .Mrs. Nolly Ames. 

E'lia , o Charles Lamb. 

Eli Perkins = <■ ° Matthew D. Landon. 

Elizabeth Wetherell » Susan Warner. 

Ella Rodman = « • . • -Mrs. Eliza Rodman. 

Ellis Bell • Emily Bronte. 

Ettrick Shepherd James Hogg. 

Eugene Pomeroy Thomas F. Donnelly. 

English Opium Eater Thomas De Quincey. 

Fanny Fielding Mary J. S. Upsher. 

Falconbridge Jonathan F. Kelly. 

Fanny Fern wife of Jas. Parton and sister of N. P. Willis. 

Fanny Forester Emily C. Judson. 

Fat Contributor A. M. Griswold. 

Father Prout Francis Mahoney. 

Florence Percy Mrs. Elizabeth Akers. 

Frank Forrester Henry W. Herbert. 

Gail Hamilton Miss Mary Abigail Dodge, of Hamilton. 

Gath, also Laertes- George Alfred Townsend. 

Geoffrey Crayon Washington Irving. 

George Forrest ...... . ........ Rev. J. G. Wood. 

George Eliot Mrs. Marian Lewes Cross. 

George Fitz Boodle William Makepeace Thackeray. 

George Sand Mme. Amantine Lucille Aurore Dudevani 

Grace Greenwood Mrs. Sara J. Lippincott. 






■'■ i^-Is^^"'" ^'""^— ^iRi-^»< 




42 ASSUMED NAMES. 

ASSUMED NAME. REAL NAME. 

Grace Wharton A. T. Thompson. 

Hans Breitmann Charles Godfrey Leland. 

Hans Yokel • A. Oakf :y Hall. 

Harriet Myrtle .- Mrs. L)dia F. F. Miller. 

Harry Hazell Justin Jones. 

Harry Lorrequer Charles Lever. 

Hesba Stretton Miss Hannah Smith. 

Hibernicus De Witt Clinton. 

Historicus Wm. Geo. Vernon Harcourt. 

Hosea Bigelow James Russell Lowell. 

Howadji George William Curtis. 

Howard • Mordecai Manuel Noah. 

Howard Glyndon Laura C. Redden. 

Hyperion Josiah Quincy. 

Ik Marvel Donald G. Mitchell. 

lanthe Emma C. Embury. 

Irenseus Rev. S. Irenaeus S. Prime, D, D. 

Isabel William Gilmore Simms. 

Janus E)r. Dollinger. 

Jaques J- Hain Friswell. 

Jay Charlton J. C. Goldsmith. 

Jedediah Cleislebotham Sir Walter Scott. 

Jennie June Mrs. Jennie Cunningham Croly. 

John Chalkhill Izaak Walton. 

John Darby J. C. Garretson. 

John Oliver Hobbs Mrs. Perry Cragie. 

John Paul C. H. Webb. 

John Phoenix, Gentleman George H. Derby. 

John Strange Winter Mrs. Stannard. 

Josh Billings Henry W: Shaw. 

Joshua Coffin H. W. Longfellow. 

Kate Campbell Jane Elizabeth Lincoln. 

"Kirwan Rev. Nicholas Murray. 

K. N. Pepper James M. Morris. 

Launcelot Wagstafife, Jr Charles Mackay. 

Lemuel Gulliver Jonathan Swift. 

Louise Muhlbach Clara Mundt. 

Laicus Rev. Lyman Abbott. 

Major Jack Downing Seba Smith. 

Mark Twain Samuel L. Clemens. 

Max Adler Charles H. Clark. 

Marion Harland Mary V. Terhune. 

Minnie Myrtle Miss Anna C. Johnson. 

Mintwood Miss Mary A. E. Wager. 



ASSUMED NAMES. ,43 

ASSUMED NAME. REAL NAME. 

M. Quad Charles B. Lewis. 

Mrs. Partington B. P. Shillaber. 

M. T. Jug. 00...... .Joseph Howard. 

Ned BuntHne , .Edward Z. C. Judson. 

Nym Crinkle . 0,.. .0.. A. C= Wheeler. 

Old Bachelor ......... „ Geo. Wm. Curtis. 

Old Humphrey . .George Mogridge. 

Ollapod . Willis G. Clark. 

Old Cabinet R. Watson Gilder. 

Old 'Un , o Francis Alexander Durivage. 

Olivia Emily Edson Grigg. 

Oliver Optic William Taylor Adams. 

Octave Thanet » . Alice French. 

Orpheus C. Kerr Robert H. Newell. 

Ouida Louisa De La Reme, 

Owen Meredith Lord Lytton. 

Parson Brownlow .William Gunnaway -Brownlow. 

Patty Lee Alice Cary. 

Paul Creyton . . . , J. T. Trowbridge. 

Pen Holder Rev. Edward Eggleston. 

Pequot Charles W. March. 

Perdita Mrs. Mary Robinson, 

Perley Benj. Perley Poore. 

Peter Parley S. G. Goodrich. 

Peter Pindar. , Dr. John Wolcot. 

Petroleum V. Nasby D. R. Locke. 

Phoenix Sir Henry Martin. 

Poor Richard Benjamin Franklin. 

Porte Crayon David H. Strother. 

Private Miles O'Reilly Charles G. Halpine. 

O. K. Philander Doesticks, P. B Mortimer M. Thompson. 

Robinson Crusoe Daniel Defoe. 

Runnymede Lord Beaconsfield. 

Rustic Bard Robert Dinsmore. 

Sam Slick Thomas C. Halliburton. 

Saxe Holm ......Miss Rush Ellis. 

Shirley Dare Miss Susan Dunning. 

Sophie May Mrs. Eckerson. 

Sophie Sparkle , Jennie E. Hicks. 

Sparrowgrass .T. S. Cozzens. 

Straws, Jr. . . ..Kate Field. 

Susan Coolidge Miss Woolsey. 

'Teufelsdroe'ckh Thomas Carlyle. 

Teutha .William Jerdan. 



4i ASSUMED NAMES. 

ASSUMED NAME. REAL NAME. 

The Black Dwarf .Thomas J. Wooler. 

The Celt Thomas Davis. 

The Druid . Henry H. Dixon. 

The Governor Henry Morford. 

The Traveller Isaac Stary. 

Theodore Taylor J. C. Hotten. 

Thomas Ingoldsby Rev. R. H. Barham. 

Thomas Little Thomas Moore. 

Thomas Rowley Thomas Chatterton. 

Timon Fieldmouse William B. Rands. 

Timothy Tickler Robert Syme. 

Timothy Titcomb Dr. J. G. Holland. 

Tom Brown Thomas Hughes. 

Tom Folio Joseph E. Babson. 

Tom Hawkins Theodore W. A. Buckleyc 

Trinculo John A. Cockerill. 

Tristam Merton Thomas B. Macaulay. 

Two Brothers A. and C. Tennyson. 

lUbique Parker Gilmore. 

Una Mary A. Ford. 

Uncle Hardy William Senior. 

Uncle John Elisha Noyce. 

Uncle Philip Rev. Dr. F. L. Hawks. 

Uncle Toby Rev. Tobias H. Miller. 

Veteran Observer E. D. Mansfield. 

Vigilant John Corlett. 

Vivian George H. Lewes. 

Vivian Joyeux W. M. Praed. 

Walter Mayhard William Beale. 

Warhawk William Palmer. 

Warrington W. P. Robinson. 

Warwick " F. O. Otterson. 

Waters William H. Russell. 

What's His Name E. C. A/[assey. 

Wilibald, Alexis William Haering. 

Wizard ....... . ..... John Corlett. 




ART AND LITERATURE IN THE HOME. 



SHORT AND SWEET SAYINGS. 



:f jf jr 



fT IS often the case that a world of 
meaning can be put into a short say- 
ing — a saying or phrase that tells the whole 
story in a few words. Here are some of 
the brilliant utterances of the great orators, 
authors, dramatists and poets : 

Self-praise is odious. 

Set a thief to catch a thief. 

Talk is cheap. 

Tell the truth and shame the devil. 

A barking dog never bites. 

Foes to God are never true to man. 

Borrowed clothes never fit. 

Brevity is the soul of wit. 

Faint heart ne'er won fair lady. 

Care is the canker of the soul. 

Let well enough alone. 

It takes a smart man to be a fool. 

Wise men change their minds ; a fool, 
never. 

A bet is a fool's argument. 

Wisdom is better than valor. 

Ye cannot serve God and Mammon. 

Shoemakers' children always go bare- 
footed. 

Fair exchange is no robbery. 

The liar should have a good memory. 

A new broom always sweeps clean. 

Miserly fathers make prodigal sons. 

A miss is as good as a mile. 

Never say die. 

You must attend your own funeral. 

Rogues have a poor opinion of the law. 

None are so blind as those who will not 
see. 

Revolutions never go backward. 

Honest men are not always popular. 

-47 



Prevention is better than cure. 

Proverbs are the condensed wisdom of 
the ages. 

Owe no man anything. 

Distance lends enchantment to the view. 

Save at the spigot and spend at the bung. 

Necessity is the mother of invention. 

Opportunity never knocks twice at any 
man's door. 

Men are usually the authors of their own 
misfortunes. 

Poverty, misfortune and politics make 
strange bedfellows. 

None but the brave deserve the fair. 

Keep out of debt and bad company. 

Poets are born, not made. 

Let not the sun go down upon your 
wrath. 

A soft answer turneth away wrath. 

Count fifty before you answer a taunt. 

The contented man is truly rich. 

Wealth rarely brings happiness. 

Don't criticise your neighbors. 

Spare the rod and spoil the child. 

Don't carry tales. 

Don't cross a bridge until you come to it. 

Stand by old friends. 

Dead men tell no tales. 

Murder will out. 

Circumstances alter cases. 

Misery loves company. 

Money talks; silence is golden. 

Every man has his weak side. 

Feather your nest. 

Always mind your own business. 

Fools and children tell the truth. 

Cleanliness is next to Godliness. 



48 



SHORT AND SWEET SAYINGS. 



A burnt child dreads the fire. 

An honest confession is good for the soul. 

All's fair in love and war. 

All's not gold that glitters. 

Appearances are deceptive. 

The child is father of the man. 

The morning shows the day. 

As the twig is bent the tree's inclined. 

Be well dressed, but never overdressed. 

It's better to be right than be President. 

Be sure you're right, then go ahead. 

It's better to be lucky than rich. 

Never borrow trouble. 

Too many cooks spoil the broth. 

Blood is thicker than water. 

Money in hand is a good friend in time 
of trouble. 

Charity covers a multitude of sins. 

Coming events cast their shadows before. 

Curses, like chickens, come home to roost. 

Heaven helps those who help themselves. 

The world owes no man a living. 

Half a loaf's better than none 

Haste always makes waste. 

Hell is paved with good intentions. 

You can't teach an old dog new tricks. 

It makes a difference as to whose ox is 
gored. 

It is easy to bear the sorrows of others. 

Honesty is the best policy. 

Live within your income. 

Look before you leap. 

Marry in haste ; repent at leisure. 

Vinegar catches few flies. 

The end justifies the means. 

Make hay while the sun shines. 

Lies travel faster than truths. 

Fools are wise in their own conceits. 

Fools and their money are soon parted. 



A good heart is half the battle. 

A good name is better than riches, 

A man's life is his epitaph 

Great ships need deep water. 

Pictures are silent yet speaking poems. 

Have a place for everything and every- 
thing in its place. 

Rolling stones gather no moss. 

One rotten apple spoils the whole barrel. 

A bad beginning leads to a bad ending. 

A cheerful spirit sweetens toil. 

Drowning men catch at straws. 

Facts are better than theories. 

A living dog is better than a dead lion. 

Men apt to promise are apt to forget. 

Men are no better than their conversa- 
tion. 

A miss is as good as a mile. 

Nimble pennies are better than slow shill- 
ings. 

Poor men have no friends. 

Prudent men leave something behind. 

Pennies saved are pennies earned. 

Secrets when told are not secrets. 

Setting hens never grow fat. 

Rich men have luck ; poor men have chil- 
dren. 

Beware of snakes in the grass. 

Small leaks sink great ships. 

Streams never rise higher than their 
sources. 

Watch a pot and it will never boil. 

A wise head has a clofese mouth. 

The idle brain is the devil's workshop. 

Remember that appearances usually de- 
ceive. 

Avarice is the spur to industry. 

Do not trumpet your own praises. 

Be just before you are generous. 



WISE AS WELL AS WITTY. 



^ ^ ^ 

What the Funny Men Say and Write— Philosophy in Disguise. 

:r :^ j^ 



p^HERE is a deal of wisdom to be found 

\f in the sayings and writings of the 
men regarded as mere laughmakers ; in fact, 
they would not be so popular if their produc- 
tions were not replete with human nature. 
They hold the mirror up to us, in fact, and 
we see, by proxy, as it were, the reflections 
of ourselves, but we do not know this — at 
least, if we recognize the reflections in this 
looking-glass we say nothing about them. 

We laugh at these effusions of these hu- 
morists because they are so true to life ; be- 
cause what is thus written is the epitome of 
every-day experiences which we cannot em- 
balm in print for lack of this peculiar talent 
but which irresistibly appeal to our sense of 
the fitness of things the moment we see them 
pictured by the pen of the "funny man" or 
the pencil of the caricaturist. 

What a v/orld of wit and wisdom, phil- 
osophy and homely truth one finds in "David 
Harum." Here is a character we often see, 
but no one, save a genius and an original 
thinker, would think of painting his portrait. 
When we pass David Harum on the street 
we take little or no notice of him ; when we 
find him immortalized by Edward Noyes 
Westcott, who, by reason of the irony of 
fate, died at the very moment his work had 
achieved fame, we eagerly read everything 
regarding his sayings and doings. 

Whiat is more natural than this descrip- 
tion of David Harum's first insight into the 
mysteries of horse-trading? David had 



traded an old family horse for a faster 
young horse. The horse-trader at Jordan, 
after praising his horse, finally guaranteed 
that he would "go in 2 :40." 

"Can he really make a mile in 2:40?" 
asked Mr. Brown (who told the story), 
afterwards. 

"Well, no, he can't," said David, regret- 
fully. 

"Then that Jordan man deceived you?" 

"Well, I did think so, but he explained 
it at the bank this morning. When I asked 
him what he meant by saying the horse 
could go a mile in 2:40, he said, 'Why, I 
didn't guarantee that he could go a mile or 
any other distance in 2 140.' " 

" 'When I guaranteed that he'd go in 
2 40,' continued the Jordan man, solemnly, 
T meant it just as it is written, that he'd go 
as far as he could in 2 40, and so, by ginger, 
he will.' " 

Mr. Westcott was a genuine humorist, 
and, as might have been expected, gave his 
creation credit for more wit than he really 
possessed, although the character of David 
Harum was an elaboration of a quaint old 
horse-trader and peddler who traveled 
around in New York state and sold the 
people of the countryside all sorts of jim- 
cracks. His name was Hannum, but no one 
thought he was worthy of a place in history 
until Mr. Westcott put him there. 

Shortly before his death the author, in a 
letter to a friend, wrote : 



49 



50 



WISE AS WELL AS WITTY. 



"I'lii afraid I'm going to write a posthu- 
mous book. Now, 1 never expected to write 
a posthumous book. I should not die happy 
if I thought I was to be a posthumous writ- 
er. However, I've had lots of fun writing- 
it, and nobody will get more fun out of it 
than I have." 

He wrote up to the very day of his death. 
The book was slow in coming out, and 
Westcott, not in an impatient way, though, 
wrote : 

"I wrote the book for fun and my own 
amusement, but if the publisher don't hurry 
it up, I will die before it is out, and miss 
the fun of reading it." 

When it actually came before the public 
he wrote that. 

While he was dying, but still writing his 
quaint stories, he wrote : 

"I am enjoying David Harum immensely. 
I never have to think what he is going to 
say next. David is always ready to talk 
before it is his turn." 



"David Harum" is intensely practical, and 
that is why people took so much interest in 
it. David lifted the mortgage from a poor 
widow's farm because her husband took him 
to the circus when he was a poor boy, and in 
this he showed practical Christianity. 

"Father," he said, "never wore fine 
clothes and showed off in the choir, nor 
acted like a drum-major at a funeral. He 
simply did his duty and paid his pew rent. 
When frisky Deacon Marsh said he was a 
Christian and a gentleman, father said: 
'Well, I am a simple, plain e very-day Chris- 
tian.' 

"The difference between a Christian and 
a gentleman," continued David, "is this: 
Every Christian is always a gentleman, but 
not one gentleman in ten is a Christian ; the 
Christian covers the whole ground. If a 
man carries out the new commandment of 
our Savior, which is 'to do unto others,' etc., 
he is a Christian and a gentleman." 



"BILL NYE'S" PHILOSOPHY. 



fHE late Edgar W. Nye, the "Bill Nye," 
who was known the country over, had a 
great deal of philosophy in his makeup. In 
one of his lectures he said : 

"The earth is composed of land and 
water. Some of the water has large chunks 
of ice in it. The earth revolves around its 
own axle once in twenty-four hours, though 
it seems to revolve faster than that, arid to 
wobble a good deal, during the holidays. 
Nothing tickles the earth more than to con- 
fuse a man when he is coming home late at 
night, and then to rise up suddenly and hit 
him in the back with a town lot. People 
who think there is no fun or relaxation 
among the heavenly bodies certainly have 
not studied their habits. 

"A friend of mine, who was returning late 
at night from a regular meeting of the So- 



ciety for the Amelioration of Something-or- 
other, said that the earth rose up suddenly 
in front of him, and hit him with a right of 
way, and as he was about to rise up again 
he was stunned by a terrific blow between 
the shoulder blades with an old land grant 
that he thought had lapsed years ago. When 
he staggered to his feet he found that the 
moon, in order to add to his confusion, had 
gone down in front of him, and risen again 
behind him, with her thumb on her nose. 

"So I say, without fear of successful con- 
tradiction, that if you do not think that 
planets and orbs and one thing and another 
have fun on the quiet, you are grossly ig- 
norant of their habits. 

"The earth is about half-way between 
Mercury and Saturn in the matter of den- 
sity. Mercury is of about the specific grav- 



S2 



WISE AS WELL AS WITTY. 



ity of iron, while that of Saturn corresponds 
with that of cork in the matter of density 
and specific gravity. The earth, of course, 
does not compare with Mercury in the mat- 
ter of soHdity, yet it is amply firm for all 
practical purposes. A negro who fell out of 
the tower of a twelve-story building while 
trying to clean the upper window by drink- 
ing a quart of alcohol and then breathing 
hard on the glass, says that he regards the 
earth as perfectly solid, and safe to do busi- 
ness on for years to come. He claims that 
those who maintain that the earth's crust is 



only 2,500 miles in thickness have not thor- 
oughly tested the matter by a system of 
practical experiments. 

"The poles of the earth are merely im- 
aginary. I hate to make this statement in 
public in such a way as to injure the reputa- 
tion of great writers on this subject who still 
cling to the theory that the earth revolves 
upon large poles, and that the aurora bore- 
alis is but the reflection from a hot box at 
the North Pole, but I am here to tell the 
truth." 



THE SPELLING BEE. 



fN John S. Draper's "Shams; or Uncle 
Ben's Experience with Hypocrites," 
occurs this quaint and humorous descrip- 
tion of an old-fashioned "Spelling Bee:" 

Bilger and Plunket were appointed cap- 
tains to choose sides for the spelling. On 
one side were Uncle Ben, Sarah Smuggins, 
George Waddles, Tom Clark, Zolliver 
Ramsdell, and others; on the other side 
were Clarissa (Ben's wife), Pegleg Tom- 
jcins, Mehitable Tompkins and several 
more. 

When all was ready the teacher put out 
the words. 

"The first word was 'plough,' a verb,' 
and 'Squire Bigler spelled 'p-1-o-u-g-h,' 
plow. The next was 'rough,' and Ebenezer 
spelled it 'r>-o-u-g-h,' ruf. The next word 
was 'cow,' and Clarissa thought if 'Squire 
Bilger was right in spelling 'plow,' she 
would be correct in spelling it 'c-o-u-g-h,' 
cow, and the teacher bawled out 'next!' 

"I don't think I ever saw Clarissa's face 
more carroty-colored in my life; and she 
aat down with a visjble surprise in her 
complexion. While Clarissa was sitting 
down Ebenezer whispered to me, 'c-o-w,' 
and I spoke up loud and said: 



"Well, my opinion is that animal ought 
to be spelled with a 'k,' but the way is 
'c-o-w,' covv^. And for once I felt proud to 
think that I had beaten Clarissa, as she 
always conveys that I am not very 
smart. 

"Several words went around, till it came 
my turn again, when the teacher called out 
'Chicago.' I asked him if we had got that 
far from home so soon — there was such a 
humming and noise that I didn't know but 
what we was on a lightning express train. 

" 'No, Mr. Morgan,' he said; 'if you can't 
spell the word, sit down.' He spoke so 
mighty sharp it made me mad; and I said, 
'Any fool can spell that word.' I spelled 
the word 'S-h-e-c-a-g-o,' and he called out 
'next' with a broad smile on his face, whiio 
I sat down. 

"Pegleg Tompkins spelled it 'C-h-i- 
c-,a-g-o,' and the teacher said 'correct,' and 
looked at me with a grin. 

'Tt made me mad, and I said: 'Didn't i 
say any fool could spell it? I didn't try to 
spell it right; for I wanted to see what foo* 
would spell it!' That made Pegleg hot, and 
he said: 

" 'If it wa'n't for the respect I have for 



WISE AS WELL AS WITTY. 



53 



Clarissa Morgan Ed show these folks what 
a smart husband she had.' 

"Clarissa spoke up and said, 'La, me, 
Pegleg, don't mind Benjamin; that's the 
Avay he always does when he gits in a tight 
pinch, and don't know how to get out. He 
couldn't spell Chicago right no more than 
he cotild git music out of that orgin;' and 
Clarissa seemed to glory in my downfall. 
Her remarks just caused a perfect uproar 
of laughter; but I didn't feel a bit like 
laughing. I was fighting mad, but I meant 
to kep cool and not show it. Things didn't 
pan out as me and Clarissa imagined they 
would when we proposed the spelling- 



match — and the teacher kind of nettled 
me. 

"George Waddles spelled 'cattle,' 'Dur- 
ham,' 'Holstein' and 'money' all right, but 
when they gave him the word 'religion,' 
he sat down. He couldn't spell it right, 
though the teacher gave him two chances 
on it. I concluded that a man could spell 
any word right that his whole heart is in- 
terested in, but is likely to miss words that 
doesn't particularly interst him. 

" 'Squire Bilger went down on the very 
next word after 'religion,' 'honesty.' He 
spelled 'policy' all right, but 'honesty' was 
too much for him and he fell down on it." 



SOME OF "ROSE" FIELD'S CONCLUSIONS. 



F the truly classical yet soulful hum- 
orists of the country, none ranks 
higher than Roswell M. Field, brother of the 
late Eugene Field, and his legitimate suc- 
cessor. His wit is golden, his wisdom grat- 
ifying and his sarcasm tempered with gen- 
tleness. Among other bright things writ- 
ten by him are these: 

"When lovely woman took our collars 
we grinned. When she appropriated our 
shirts we smiled. When she grabbed our 
short coats and jackets we began to look at 
life a little seriously, and when she calmly 
put on our white duck trousers we thought 
of calling a national convention. But the 
final blow remained to be administered. It 
came down with a more or less sickening 
thud this morning. 

" 'Already the alert hosiers have planned 
the extended sock. This will be nineteen 
inches long, and its ribbed top, exactly like 
a man's short sock, will, in cases more or 
less numerous, obviate the necessity of 
wearing garters.' 

"Friends and fellow citizens, we are lost. 
That is, our wardrobe is now ?ost, which is 
practically the same thing. The man who 



is now foolish enough to permit his wife 
to rise first in the morning will be compelled 
to go downtown in a sheet and pillow case, 
like a Roman senator. With the capture 
of our socks we have nothing which we can 
deliberately and with accuracy call our own, 
hence a return to the classic costume of 
Rome is inevitable. Personally we are un- 
moved by this last catastrophe. Our spirit 
was crushed and our hope had fled, and if 
we had the caudal appendage of the buffalo 
we should lose no time in running wild. 
This is the age of woman's advancement, 
and if our socks and other trifles of apparel 
will facilitate the noble work, why let her 
have them. We doubt not that in some 
way the wind will be tempered to the shorn 
lamb and the fallen sparrow will be raised 
up. 'Here, take an inventory of all I 
have' — to the last garment. Where's Tom 
Edison? Can't he invent something we 
can put on for a few months until the ladies 
weary of our fashions?" 



"We have been much gratified to learn 
that our young friend, Kwang Su (Em- 
peror of China at the time of the "Boxer" 




Photo Copyrighted by Tonnesen Sisters. 

MRS, MARGARET POTTER BLACK. 
A Young Author of Promise. 



WISE AS WELL AS WITTY. 



55 



outbreak in 1900. — Ed.), or words to that 
effect, has again risen merrily from the 
dead and sent out a cheering pronuncia- 
mento. It adds to our pleasure that his 
empress mother has entirely recovered from 
the effects of her overdose of opium and is 
beginning to enjoy her meals, which are 
rigorously inspected in order to guard 
against possible unhealthful ingredients. 
Advices from China are not always reliable, 
for it is impossible that Minister Conger or 
Kwang Su could die so many times with- 
out some impairment of his general health. 
In his latest work on China Mr. Colquhoun 
pays a high tribute to the Chinese skill in 
the noble art of lying, and we are beginning 
to appreciate the justice of the compliment. 
At the same time it is likely that thousands 
of native converts have surrendered their 
lives in defense of their religious convic- 
tions, and the only consolation we have as 
Christians is the ever-soothing reflection 
that they passed away in the triumphs of 
faith. The results of Christianity in the 
Orient seem to be the preparation of the 
natives for an immediate and successful 
journey to the islands of the blessed." 



"The Department of Agriculture announ- 
ces in a bulletin of special interest that 
about 250 specimens of mosquitoes are 
known, of which thirty are found in the 
United States, chiefly in New Jersey and 
Winnetka, 111. It has also discovered that 
mosquitoes are carried from place to place 
by railway trains, that 'many of the cars 
contained mosquitoes by the hundreds,' and 
that "with the improvement of railway ser- 
vice and the increase in the number of 
through trains the danger is constantly in- 
creasing.' A mosquito leaving Jersey City 
at 9 o'clock in the morning will reach Cook 
county at the corresponding hour the fol- 
lowing day and be refreshed and ready for 
business that night, returning home on any 



of the limited trains as his taste and pre- 
ference may dictate. Having warned us of 
this 'constantly increasing danger,' the de- 
partment suggests the ignition of pyrethrum 
powder, the catching of mosquitoes on the 
walls in kerosene cups, and bars and screens 
for beds as a preventive, with the liberal 
use of glycerine, indigo and household am- 
monia as a cure for bites. All these experi- 
ments have been tried in the tropical foliage 
extending from Winnetka to Lake Forest, 
and we are told by the victims of the coun- 
try and mosquito habit that the only sure 
cure is quick removal to Chicago. But with 
the 'improvement of railway service' even 
we are no longer safe, and shall not be until 
the railways include mosquitoes in a tariff 
of discrimination. There was a time when 
sleeping cars were overrun by the cimex 
lectularius, but this disturber of nocturnal 
repose was gradually and surely eliminated. 
May we not believe that railway engineer- 
ing will ingeniously conquer the problem of 
mosquito transportation?" 



"Nothing could be more dignified, more 
fitting, in better temper, than the advice 
proffered to the Ohio boxers by the Texas 
rangers, one sentence of which we reprint, 
with expressions of the most cordial appro- 
bation : 

" 'We protest against uncivilized conduct 
on the part of citizens of our sister State of 
Ohio, and admonish them of the pernicious 
example thus displayed in setting the laws 
of the land at defiance in this age of civili- 
zation and land of Christianity.' 

"Every word of this is true, and we have 
no doubt that the resolutions were inspired 
by a feeling of the deepest grief and keenest 
solicitude. We understand that there are 
now in Luzon and in China many valiant 
sons of Texas, fighting for Christianity and 
civilization and establishing the supremacy 
of Anglo-Saxon law. And we cannot for- 



5^' 



WISE AS WELL AS WITTY. 



get that Ohio is the mother of pohticians 
and office-holders, including a few Presi- 
dents, and should be therefore the shining 
example of all the virtues. We confess 
that a reproof from Texas is not the most 
agreeable Christmas gift the fancy might 
picture, but we are greatly encouraged at 
this exhibition of a clear perception of right 
on the part of the rangers, and we must be- 
Heve that the protest, so kindly and deli- 
cately presented, will be productive of much 
good in the unsettled districts of Northern 



Ohio. Mr. Peck, the cause of the boxer 
outbreak, has been sentenced to the peni- 
tentiary for life, and with his incarceration 
and the manifestation of prudence on the 
part of Mr. Dowie's missionaries we may 
look for a return to that state of law and 
order so gratifying to Texas. We shall ex- 
amine the Ohio papers for expressions of 
appreciation to the rangers for their gentle 
and conciliatory words of sorrow and re- 
gret." 



GEORGE ADE AND THE MODERN SORT OF FABLE. 



NCE Upon a Time George Ade ven- 
tured outside the Natural Limits of 
the State known as Indiana (which is al- 
lowed upon the Map). 

Since that Fortunate Escape both Money 
and Reputation have come his Way. 

Lately he has been concocting Fables of 
all sorts, but written in a Different Style 
from those he Manufactured while on a 
Salary and employed by Someone Else. 

George works for Himself now, and does 
nothing except collect specimens of things 
called Royalties. 

One of George's Fables was a coagulated 
version of the Manner in which a German 
named Van Winkle got Lost and Found. 

Ade's idea of Rip was a City Chap, who, 
on Vacation, while sailing a small boat, was 
blown out to Sea from the Seashore, leaving 
a Sorrowing but Faithful Sweetheart in 
Chicago. 

She thought her Love was Drowned, so 
she Grieved to Beat the Band. 

The Fugitive was picked up at Sea by a 
big Ship and after being Robbed of his 
small boat was set Ashore in a Foreign 
Land. 

All the While he was thinking of his 
Loved One back in Chicago, only stopping 
for Meals. 



Finally he Worked his way back in the 
Furnace-Room of a Steamer to the United 
States, and engaged the state-room of a 
forward truck on the Limited which stopped 
at Chicago. 

He had been away full Six long Months. 

As he came into a Street leading to a 
main Thoroughfare he saw Men in Strange 
Hats and Garments of Fantastic Pattern 
walking with Women enveloped in long 
Masculine Coats of a most Amazing Baggi- 
ness, while each balanced on her head an 
immense Disk trimmed gayly. 

In the show windows were fabrics woven 
in such designs as he had never seen before. 

A surprising kind of Auto-Vehicle 
whizzed over the Pavements. 

The bill-boards advertised new Kinds of 
Pickles and other Things, the names of 
which he failed to recognize. 

George, in his Fable, then went on to 
Say: 

"Arrived at the Cornerwhere the Humble 
Boarding House once reared its three 
Stories he found himself at a Family Hotel 
with Nine Floors, an Office with two thou- 
sand five hundred Electric-Lights in it and 
a Flunkey in Livery standing at the Edge 
of the Sidewalk to lift Well-to-Do People 
in and out of their Carriages. 



5-^ 



WISE AS WELL AS WITTY. 



" 'Where is Mrs. Phillips now ?' asked the 
latter-day Rip Van Winkle. 

"The Flunkey looked at Randolph and 
saw that his Collar was Six Months behind 
the Style, so he refused to answer. 

"Across the Street there happened to be a 
Man who remembered that there had been 
a Mrs. Phillips in that Neighborhood, but 
she had disposed of her Lease to a Syndi- 
cate for $200,000 and was now in Antwerp 
having a painter fix up a set of Ancestors in 
Oil. 

"All at once the Homeless Wretch hap- 
pened to think of the Art Student, his regu- 
lar Dulciana and Sunday Night Stand-By, 
so he dug for the House. 

"She was not at Home, but Mamma 
was. 

"Mamma came out, and after a lot of hard 
Mental Concentration and having him re- 
call certain incidents she managed to re- 
member that he had been engaged to her 
Daughter some eight months previously. 

"She said there had been so many it was 
hard to keep Tab on the whole Bunch. 

" 'And where is my Darling Fiancee 
now?' asked Randolph. 

" 'She Mourned for three long weeks 
after the Sad News came,' reported Mam- 
ma. 

" 'Then the Color came back to her 
Cheeks and she Smiled Occasionally and at 
Once married a Divorced Man named 
Thompson, who is on the Stock Exchange. 
They lived Happily for about Forty-five 
Minutes and then the Persecuted Lamb gave 
him the Run and forced him to a Settle- 
ment. She is now the wife of a Concert 



Tenor. They are on the Road and appear 
at Quincy, Illinois, this evening.' 

"The Broken-Hearted Lover went out 
into the Street again. He was very Lone- 
some. Everyone was whistling Coon Songs 
that were New Ones on him. 

"He bought an Evening Paper and found 
that the Information he was seeking had 
become Ancient History. 

"He asked about the Siege of Pekin and 
the Boer War and the Pedestrians threw 
things at him. 

"He was afraid to ask how the Election 
came out or who was the Champion Pugilist, 
or how much the Transatlantic Record had 
been lowered. 

"The great World of Thought had moved 
ahead Six Months, leaving him shell- 
roaded far Behind." 

The Worst of it All was that he didn't 
get his Trunk, although he put up a Talk 
at the place where it had been Stored. 

His Accent was so far behind the one 
Chicago had adopted in the Meantime that 
the Cold Storage-House man couldn't make 
out a word he said. 

In the Fugitive's own line of performance 
an entirely new leader for Dress Goods had 
come in, and he had to Flee for his Life. 

Then he Shipped as a Chef on a Norwe- 
gian lumber boat which Ploughed the Rag- 
ing Main up as far as Muskegon, became 
Rich and Overbearing, and finally Died in 
a Hotel Conflagration which absorbed the 
building and contents, as well as a few of 
the Guests and Employes. 

He left all his money to an Old Maids' 
Home. 



MR. BOWSER AND THE NORTH POLE. 



fB. LEWIS, the famous "M. Quad," 
a and write-r of stories regarding the 
Lime Kiln Club and Mr. Bowser's varied 
experiences, tells how it was that Bowser's 



experiment in the interest of science and 
his desire to reach the celebrated North 
Pole didn't come out exactly as he had an- 
ticipated. 



WISE AS WELL AS WITTY. 



59 



"Do you know," began Mr. Bowser after 
dinner the other evening — "do you know 
what prevents men from reaching the North 
Pole?" 

"Several things," replied Mrs. Bowser, 
who, being the only one present, took it that 
the query was addressed to her. 

"Yes, several things, but principally be- 
cause of the cold. But for the awful tem- 
perature around the pole men could easily 
overcome the other difficulties. When the 
thermometer registers lo degrees below 
zero the life blood of the strongest man con- 
geals. He must either retreat or die." 

"Well, what of it?" she asked. 

"What of it ?" he repeated with a chuckle. 
"If you overcome the cold, you discover the 
pole, don't you?" 

"And you have found a way of overcom- 
ing the cold, I suppose. It is two weeks 
since you had a fad, and I was wondering 
what would come next. If you are going to 
visit the North Pole with a lot of hot-water 
bags strapped around your body to keep 
your temperature at summer heat, let's hear 
about it." 

"Being as you are a woman and being as 
every woman is about half idiot, I can over- 
look your sarcasm. Your way of encourag- 
ing a husband to seek for fame is to belittle 
every plan he originates. Had Columbus 
had a wife like you this American continent 
would have continued to be a paradise for 
woodchucks. Expecting nothing but ridi- 
cule and sarcasm in reply, I will, however, 
ask you a question or two. Suppose that a 
man going out with a temperature of 20 
degrees below zero raises the temperature 
of his body 30 or 40 degrees ?" 

"That would offset the cold," replied 
]Mrs. Bowser. 

"Your head is not filled with sawdust af- 
ter all. Yes, it would work that way, and 
don't you see my plan? To meet the cold 
of the North Pole we simply keep on rais- 



ing the temperature. It's the simplest 
thing in the world, and yet nobody seems to 
have thought of it. Mrs. Bowser, consider 
the North Pole as discovered. Consider it 
discovered by Mr. Bowser." 

He stepped back and bowed before her 
and the cat came out from under the lounge 
and squinted at both and wondered whether 
it was a question of science or mouse- 
traps. 

"Yes, but how are you going to raise the 
temperature of the body 100 degrees or 
more?" queried Mrs. Bowser. 

"Just as easy as lifting up your foot. Do 
you see these lozenges? They contain no 
less than six different redhot ingredients, 
including cayenne pepper. Two of them are 
warranted to make the blood fairly boil and 
cause the temperature around the pole to 
seem like an August day in America. I 
shall at once consult the government about 
sending out an expedition. The government 
provides the ship and Bowser's lozenges do 
the rest." 

"But you haven't tried them yet." 

"No ; but I am about to do so. I wonder 
if our cook wouldn't eat one and then sit 
on a snow bank in the back yard and see 
how it worked ?" 

"Of course she wouldn't." 

"Well, there are others. I'll find a couple 
of tramps who'll sit out all night for a quar- 
ter apiece. I'll run a pair of them in at once 
and get the experiment under way." 

"You'd — you'd better wait !" she faltered, 
as he started for the door. 

"Why wait?" he asked. "It's a cold night, 
with snow and tramps at hand for experi- 
ment. If an expedition is to be sent out it 
will wish to start in the spring." - 

"But it will end in a row." 

"It will end in the discovery of the North 
Pole and make the name of Bowser better 
known than that of Columbus. You just 
keep quiet and let me run this thing," 




JOSEPH C. S. BLACKBURN, Congressman and United States Senator from Ken- 
tucky for many years, is one of the most eloquent men in the South, a section which has 
given birth to many orators of the highest class. He was born in Kentucky in 1838, his 
family being a noted one. He entered the Confederate Army and fought until the close of 
the Civil War. Being very popular, he was sent to the Legislature several times, and in 
1875 was elected to the Lower House of Congress, succeeding himself until his election to 
the United States Senate in 1885. After his retirement from that body he took up the prac- 
tice of law in Washington. 



WISE AS WELL AS WITTY. 



6i 



He put on his hat and overcoat, and it did 
not take him five minutes to find a couple of 
tramps who were sloshing around between 
his house and the corner. When he ex- 
plained what he wanted and his willingness 
to pay they both cheerfully accompanied 
him. As they stood with their backs to the 
range in the kitchen and hungrily eyed the 
remains of dinner he took their temperature 
and pronounced it normal, and then escorted 
them to the back yard. There were snow- 
banks against the fence, and he selected 
positions and sat them down. It was a keen, 
cold night, one made to order for such an 
experiment. 

"Now, then," said Mr. Bowser, as all was 
ready, *T take it that you feel cold?" 

"W-e d-o!" replied the men in chorus 
through their chattering teeth. 

"That is splendid. I estimate that there 
is a difference of at least 40 degrees between 
your temperature and that of the weather. 
You will now each of you take a lozenge in 
your mouth and let it slowly dissolve. In 
two minutes your blood ought to be the 
same temperature as the weather. In five 
you ought to imagine that robins are sing- 
ing and daisies blooming around you." 

As Mr. Bowser wasn't experimenting on 
himself he discreetly retired to the warm 
atmosphere of the kitchen and took his 
stand at a window. He had scarcely begun 
his observations when one of the tramps 
rolled over and began to kick like a horse 
tangled up in his harness, while the other 
sprang to his feet and spat and spluttered 
and coughed and crammed his mouth full of 
snow. 

"What are you fellows up to?" shouted 
Mr. Bowser as he rushed out. 

They gave him no heed. They seemed to 
be acrobats let loose, and they went through 
more antics than if they had picked up a 
dozen hot horseshoes. It was five minutes 
before either of them could speak, and then 



one cooled his mouth with an icicle hanging 
to the clothesline and stuttered : 

"B-b-boss what s s-sort of a g-g-game in. 
this?" 

"Yes, what sort of a g-g-game?" added 
the other as a snowball melted in his mouth. 

"It's no game at all. It's an experiment, 
as I told you. What have you done with 
those lozenges ?" 

"S-s-spit 'em out, durn ye!" 

"Yes ; sp-spit 'em out !" 

"But you mustn't do it. These are to 
raise the temperature of your blood until it 
affects the temperature of the atmosp'.icre. 
If you'd kept sucking the lozenges you'd 
have been perspiring by this time. Sit down 
and try it again." 

"Bill," said the first, as he continued to 
eat snow and draw in long breaths of the 
frosty air, "does if look like a cold-blooded 
attempt to burn up the vitals of two respec- 
table gents?" 

"It do, Sam ; it do." 

"And by burnin' up our vitals take away 
our appetites ?" 

"That's the game." 

"If I was playing any game would I 
promise you a quarter apiece?" asked Mr. 
Bowser. 

"It's my solemn opinyun that ye would." 

"That's our solemn opinyun." 

Mr. Bowser was about to protest and in- 
crease his cash offers when the two gentle- 
men with burned vitals fell upon him. The 
three went down together and Mrs. Bowser, 
looking from a back window, and the cook 
and cat, looking from a back door, could see 
nothing for the next two minutes for the 
cloud of snow in the air. Then the two 
tramps detached themselves from the circus 
and climbed the yard fence and the house- 
hold went out to look for Mr. Bowser. 

There were thousands of traces of him at 
hand, but it took three minutes to discover 
his actual presence and dig it out from un- 



62 



WISE AS WELL AS WITTY. 



der the snow. He had been thumped and 
kicked and choked, but life had not de- 
parted. He soon ralHed and sat up, and 
after being helped to his feet he made his 
woozy way to the kitchen and thence up- 
stairs. He did not ask what had happened 
and Mrs. Bowser gave him a rest of fifteen 
minutes on the lounge before she said : 

"With your temperature at the point it is 
do you think you can reach the North 
Pole?" 

He lifted up his head and glared at her. 

"I suppose the government ought to be 
(Copyright, 1900, 



notified at once, and if you don't feel well 
I can do it myself." 

Another glare, followed by a gritting of 
his teeth, and it was ten minutes before she 
observed : 

"I've told the cook to heat some witch 
hazel to wash off the blood. Do you wish 
for any particular temperature?" 

But Mr. Bowser had grown weary of the 
North Pole and had fallen asleep and she 
counted seven different scratches on his 
nose and wondered how he'd look on the 
street on the morrow, 
by C. B. Lewis.) 



HOW TO GET RID OF BURGLARS. 



CHICAGO citizen, addicted to 
[,^^ poetry and a sufferer from noc- 
turnal burglaries, bethought himself of 
writing to President McKinley in a sug- 
gestive way. Having lost faith in the police 
he requested the President to send a few 
West Point cadets to Chicago as a protec- 
tion against robbers : 

Dear Mr. Bfll McKinley: You'll excuse 
this tearful letter, 

For we are weighted down with grief — in 
future we'll do better. 

A heavy gloom is stifling us, we know not 
where to go, 

Unless, indeed, you are the man to banish 
all our woe. 

We heard that you were well disposed to- 
ward all mankind ; in fact. 

That you were there with arching back 
when it came time to act. 

We stood the racket, oh, so long, we can't 

compute how long. 
We faced the music when there was no 

music in the song. 



And now we must appeal to you and hum- 
bly we would beg 

For help, while we have under us for our 
support one leg. 

We sorrow much to bother you and tender 
our regrets, 

But will you, please, dispatch to us some 
young West Point cadets? 

The barkeep's in the ice box, there is every- 
thing to pay — 

We fear to go to dinner lest our jewels 
flit away. 

The hold-up man deprived us of our 
money, watch and gun, 

And of the hopes we treasured once there 
is not left us one. 

E'en when the car man comes around to 
gather up his fare 

We shudder as we elevate both hands high 
in the air. 

N. B. — So let us have your brave cadets in 

trials so amazing 
And let them give our thieves and thugs a 

gentle West Point hazing. 




WILLIAM B. ALLISON was first chosen to the LTpper House of Congress in 1873 and 
has served continuously since that time. An Ohioan by nativity, being boim at Perry, O., in 
1829, he received his education at the Western Reserve College, studied law and practiced 
his profession in his native State until 1857, when he moved to Iowa. Senator Allison was 
among those prominent in the formation of the Republican party, and was elected to the 
Thirty-eighth, Thirty-ninth, Fortieth and Fort^'-first Congresses. 




HENRY CABOT LODGE was born at Boston in 1850, was graduated from Harvard 
University in 1871, and the Law School of that institution four years later, but took up 
literature as his profession, his bent being toward history and biography. In 1895, iii con- 
junction with Vice-President Theodore Roosevelt, he prepared "Hero Tales From Ameri- 
can History," and has also written lives of Washington, Webster, Hamilton! and other great 
Americans. 



ANECDOTES OF GREAT ORATORS. 



j^ j^ j^ 



^ENATOR JOHN J. INGALLS was 
1^ feared for his sharp tongue, and when, 
in the United States Senate, he engaged in 
controversy, he usually had the best of his 
opponent. However, he tilted with Senator 
Roscoe Conkling one day, and met defeat. 
Ingalls said something Conkling did not 
relish — the two were great friends, by the 
way — and retorted with : 

"I do not care to reply to the Senator, 
who, after all, is merely after the style of a 
Kansas cabbage with a literary flavor." 



Secretary of State William M. Evarts 
was a confirmed joker, while President 
Hayes, an able man in many ways, could 
never see the point of a jest. One day, after 
a Cabinet meeting at the White House, Sec- 
retary Evarts and others were telling sto- 
ries, and while much laughter was indulged 
in the President never even smiled. 

Said Secretary Evarts: "A darky took 
his cotton to the gin at his county town and 
after selling it invited his friends to 'have 
something.' In this case, as you can see, 
he 'ginned' his cotton twice." 

After the uproar had subsided, the Presi- 
dent remarked (he had not moved a muscle 
of his face), "Really, Mr. Secretary, I must 
confess I don't see where the laugh comes 
in." 

"Pardon me, Mr. President," returned the 
Secretary of State, "I haven't a mallet and 
chisel with me." 

And President Hayes never found out 



what the others discovered in this reply to 
make merry over. 



When Daniel Webster had money in hi? 
pocket he was very liberal, and he did not 
care whether he had borrowed the cash from 
a friend or received it from a client. One 
day — he was to leave Boston for Washing- 
ton — he secured a loan of $ioo, and thrust- 
ing the bill carelessly into a vest pocket 
called to a bootblack. 

When his shoes were shined Webster 
searched his pockets but, save for the $ioo 
note, they were empty of money. Without 
a thought Webster handed the boy the $ioo 
and cahnly walked away. 



John Randolph, "of Roanoke," one of the 
proudest of Virginia's aristocracy, delighted 
in saying things which had "a sting in the 
tail," as he expressed it. He was, at tim-es, 
the incarnation of malevolence, and during 
his many years' service in the Lower House 
of Congress he made innumerable enemies. 
One of Randolph's boasts was that he was 
descended from Pocahontas. 

In the House one day a member from 
Massachusetts, who was at one time a black- 
smith, had the temerity to question one ©f 
Randolph's statements. 

Looking at the Massachusetts man in an 
insulting way, Randolph asked sneeringly 
what he had done with his blacksmith's 
apron before coming to Washington. 



65 



66 



ANECDOTES OF GREAT ORATORS. 



"Cut it up to make moccasins for the de- 
scendants of Pocahontas," promptly replied 
the New Englander, and Randolph acknowl- 
edged himself beaten. 



Senator Garland, of Arkansas, was one 
of the sedate men of the Upper House, and 
regarded as the possessor of great abilit}-. 
He engaged Senator Ingalls in heated de- 
bate during the progress of the considera- 
tion of a most important bill, and, having 
directed a shaft at Ingalls waited courteous- 
ly, although he had the floor, for a reply. 

"Never mind," broke in Ingalls in his 
clear tones, "I will not say anything; the 
only thing which could compete with the 
gentleman from Arkansas is the machine 
that pumps wind into the Senate chamber." 

The remark so disconcerted Garland that 
he was unable to finish his speech. 



Charles O'Conor was, by many, con- 
sidered the ablest lawyer this country ever 
knew. He was clear-headed, cold, logical, 
passionless, self-contained and never at a 
loss in any situation. He it was who char- 
acterized "Home, Sweet Home" — "The 
words are drivel and the air is stolen ;" but 
that has nothing to do with the story. 

When Roseoe Conkling was young in the 
law he defended a man charged with arson, 
and, as an unfriendly attorney expressed it, 
"secured his conviction." Conkling's client 
demurred at his lawyer's $3,000 fee, and 
Conkling went to O'Conor about it. 

After some deliberation the great counsel 
replied, "To tell you the truth, Mr. Conk- 
ling, your client could have been convicted 
for half the money." 

Although inordinately vain, and abnor- 
mally sensitive, this was one joke on himself 
Conkling enjoyed telling, but he never for- 



gave James G. Blaine for the latter's vitriolic 
outbreak one day when bojth were members 
of the House of Representatives. It was 
in this conflict that the "hyperion curl," 
which was the distinguishing mark on 
Conkling's classic forehead, received such 
an advertisement at the hands of the Maine 
orator that for a time the haughty New 
Yorker thought seriously of having it cut 
off. 

Conkling "got even," however, during the 
campaign of 1884, whe"n Blaine was the Re- 
publican candidate for President. The for- 
mer was "sulking in his tent," taking no 
part in the political fray, and when asked 
if he would make a few speeches for the 
man at the head of the Republican ticket 
merely replied, "You'll have to excuse me; 
I'm out of the criminal practice." He did 
not mourn when Blaine was defeated. 



In the United States Senate, while a gen- 
eral debate was in progress, a rather ob- 
trusive Western member cried out, angered 
at something Daniel Webster had said, "I 
don't pretend to have had the advantages 
of education ; I am a self-made man, sir." 

"I am glad to learn this," was Senator 
Webster's reply ; "it certainly relieves the 
Lord of a great responsibility." 



"I stand on my head, sir," was the pomp- 
ous declaration of a well-known clergyman 
who was not making much headway against 
Henry Ward Beecher in a rather spirited 
debate. 

"Don't make it a regular practice," was 
Mr. Beecher's cautionary rejoinder; "you 
are apt to wear your hair out." 

The preacher was exceedingly bald on 
top of his cranium, and readily understood 
why the people laughed. 




THOMAS BRACKETT REED, famous as an orator and master of the art of crushing 
opposition with a few pointed sentences, was born at Portland, Maine, in 1839, and was, 
upon his first election, the thirty-first Speaker of the National House of Representatives. 
He was first elected to Congress in 1876 and served continuously until 1898, when he re- 
fused to represent his State longer, retiring to private life in order that he might devote 
all his time to the practice of the law, locating in the City of New York. He died in 1904. 




CUSHMAN K. DAVIS, United States Senator from Minnesota, who died at St. Paul 
in the latter part of 1900, was born at Henderson, Jefferson County, New York, in 1843, 
and was acknowledged to be one of the ablest constitutional lawyers in the country. He 
served one term as Governor of his State, declining a re-election, and in 1887 was elected 
to the Senate, being re-elected to succeed himself in 1893 and 1900. He was a forceful 
speaker and an orator of a high order. 



ANECDOTES OE GREAT ORATORS. 



69 



• Abraham Lincoln, when "stumping" Ihi- 
nois in the 40's, was much annoyed by a 
young man with a loud voice and ready lllow 
of language, but poverty-stricken in the way 
of ideas. He could talk for hours and never 
say anything. He frequently challenged 
Mr. Lincoln to joint debate, but the latter 
invariably refused. Neither would Mr. Lin- 
coln pay attention to him in his 
speeches, until, when the importunities of 
the other had become monotonous, he said 
in the course of an address one night : 

"I merely want to remark in this connec- 
tion that this young Mr. Blank reminds me 
of a steamboat that used to run on the- Illi- 
nois river. It had a six-foot boiler and an 
eight-foot whistle, and every time the whis- 
tle blew the boat stopped." 

The young man did not bother Mr. Lin- 
coln thereafter. 



It is told — one of the tales of the early 
days of our country — that when Thomas 
Jefferson, afterwards President of the 
United States, was sent to Paris as Minister 
to Erance, his predecessor having been Ben- 
jamin Eranklin, a fellow-diplomat remarked 
to him, "Mr. Jefferson, you replace Mr. 
Eranklin at this court, I believe?" 

"Indeed, no," was Jefiferson's prompt re- 
turn. "No man can replace Dr. Eranklin, 
sir. I merely succeed him." 

This honest reply gained JefiPerson many 
friends in Paris and throughout Erance, 
where Dr. Eranklin was loved, venerated 
and esteemed by all classes. 



When David Bennett Hill was serving 
the last days of his term as Governor of 
New York it was expected he would resign 
in favor of Lieutenant Governor Jones, in 
order that the latter might have the satisfac- 



tion of having been really the chief execu- 
tive of the Empire Commonwealth. Hill 
had been elected to the United States Seri- 
ate, and Jones' friends thought it would be 
doing the graceful thing to resign and thus 
let Jones realize the great ambition of his 
life. 

"Governor," said a friend of Jones, "the 
old man would never cease to be grateful 
to you if you would let him take your seat 
even for a few hours. He almost weeps at 
times when the fear that you will continue, 
obstinate overcomes him." 

"They should be tears of joy," replied 
Hill, "for I've been in this chair many years, 
and it's upholstered with nothing but thorns. 
Better weep for fear than from pain." 

And Hill continued obstinate. 



Just before Garfield was inaugurated 
President he consented to a conference at 
his hotel in Washington with Conkling and 
several others who were Grant men to the 
last at the Chicago convention. They wanted 
recognition for the Stalwarts, being afraid 
Blaine, who was to be Secretary of State 
in the new Cabinet, might influence Garfield 
too strongly in favor of the Half-Breeds. 
One of those present said afterwards that 
Conkhng made the finest speech he ever 
listened to, but it was manifest the Presi- 
dent-elect was bored, as he said nothing and 
his manner indicated indifference. 

When the rupture between Garfield and 
Conkling was complete a friend asked the 
President what he thought of the Knick- 
erbocker Senator's effort at the hotel con- 
ference. 

"Oh," replied Garfield smilingly, "it was 
'inn-keeping' with a vengeance, but as I 
don't know much about such things I had 
to mark Conkling's course ofif the menu 
card." 



ANECDOTES OF GREAT ORATORS. 



A few days afterwards Garfield was shot 
by Gniteaii. 



William M. Evarts was distinguished, at 
the bar and in the United States Senate, 
for his extremely long sentences, some of 
them containing several hundred words and 
often involved to an astonishing degree. 

A brother Senator made a facetious re- 
mark, shortly after Evarts had concluded 
an argument upon a pending bill, regarding 
Evarts' wealth of words and seeming dearth 
of the little punctuation point with which a 
sentence is concluded. 

"Mr. President," rejoined Evarts, there 
being the faintest suspicion of a twinkle in 
his eye, 'T have often noticed during the 
years I have practiced law that the people 
who object most strongly to long sentences 
are the criminal classes." 



William Jennings Bryan had the ex- 
ceptional honor of being twice beaten for 
the presidency by the same man, and the 
second time the victor was the recipient 
of a plurality approaching 1,000,000. 

'Tf you keep on, William," said an old- 
time friend a few days after the general 
election of 1900^ "you may make McKinley 
a millionaire." 

"What's the use?" returned the defeated 
but not despondent young Nebraskan. 
"He'd have to divide with Mark Hanna." 



Senator Albert J. Beveridge is the 
youngest member of the Upper House of 
Congress, having just passed his thirty- 
sixth birthday when the Indiana Legisla- 
ture elected him. He is a remarkably keen 
man, a student, a fine debater and very 
quick-witted. 

The dav after his election the storv was 



published in the newspapers that he had at 
one time defeated William J. Bryan in joint 
debate, and he was asked if there was any 
truth in it. 

"Not the slightest," was his reply; "I 
have never had the honor of beating Mr. 
Bryan at anything at any time, and am 
probably -the only man in the United States 
who can or does say this — truthfully." 



John B. Gough, the great temperance 
orator, was interrupted in the course of an 
address one night by an auditor, who 
asked permission to put a question. 

"Certainly," replied Mr. Gough, "I am 
always glad to have questions of any sort 
put to me, and I'll answer them to the best 
of my ability." 

"Well," rejoined the man, the peculiar 
smile on his face indicating his belief that 
he had a query the lecturer would find it 
hard to answer, "you remember that at a 
certain feast mentioned in the New Testa- 
ment, the Savior, who was present, made 
wine out of water for the guests, and they 
all drank it. Now, the Savior was a tem- 
perance man and preached abstinence, and 
yet here is a case where he made wine for 
people to drink. What do you think of 
that, Mr. Gough?" 

"I think it was all right," was the latter's 
quick reply; "and, although I am a cold 
water advocate from the very bottom of my 
heart, I would never oppose the drinking of 
wine made out of water. So far as I am 
concerned, you can drink all you want of it " 



Rev. Dwight L. Moody was addressing 
a rather rough assemblage one night in 
that part of Chicago which is not deemed 
exactly safe after nightfall. He was fre- 
quently interrupted, but always had a 
pleasant, conciliatory reply for the most 
evident insults. 




ALBERT J. BEVERIDGE, JR., United States Senator from Indiana, is a native of 
that State, and was born in 1862. He was but little over the required age when elected to 
the Senate in January, 1899, and is the youngest member of that august body. After his 
graduation from DePauw University he studied law. His great speech in the Senate on 
the Philippine question demonstrated his ability in argument and showed him worthy of a 
high rank among the orators of the country. 



72 



ANECDOTES OF GREAT ORATORS. 



"When you want to get warm on a cold 
night I notice you don't find the poor, home- 
less men, women and children going into 
the churches," snarled a half-drunken in- 
dividual. "They go into the saloons." 

"How do you know?" asked Moody. 

"Oh, well, I know all right." 

"My friend," the revivalist went on to 
say, "where do most of the murders occur?" 

No answer. 

"Not in the churches, do they?" 

Still no reply. 

"Are people held up and robbed in 
church?" persisted Mr. Moody. "Do the 
police watch the churches after a robbery 
or a murder ? Where do thieves take their 
plunder? How many sober men commit 
homicide? How many sober men kill 
themselves? Do the families of sober 
men have their goods thrown out into 
the street for non-payment of rent ? Sober 
men buy carpets for the floors of their 
houses ; they clothe their wives and children, 
and they stay at home at night and let the 
saloons alone. Their homes are warm, too 
— just as warm as the saloons." 



"Someone tells me you are writing your 
autobiography, Mark," said Senator Chaun- 
cey M. Depew to Mark Twain just after the 
latter 's return in the fall of 1900 from his 
long sojourn in Europe. "I hope you'll be 
as tender and easy as you can with the sub- 
ject you are dealing with. But let me ad- 
vise you on one point ; don't dally too much 
with facts ; they're dangerous." 

"Don't fear for me or any facts in which 
you may be interested," was the humorist's 
reply; "I won't start on the autobiography 
until I can find some fellow who is willing 
to pose for it, and then, in my will, I pro- 
pose to insert a provision that the stufif shall 
not be printed until I have been dead fifty 
years. By that time I'll be so thoroughly for- 



gotten that whatever is said in the book 
can't be made even a misdemeanor, and 
even if the publisher is indicted by the grand 
jury, I won't care, as I can easily prove an 
alibi." 



Charles Sumner, although distant in 
manner and regarded as the embodiment 
of intellectual aristocracy, was ever eager 
to learn, and never failed to manifest re- 
spect for one who could or did teach him. 
One day while walking in Cambridge, 
he nearly fell into a ditch some laborers 
were digging, an accident being prevented 
only by the prompt action of one of the 
workers. Senator Sumner thanked the 
laborer, the two began to talk, and soon the 
statesman was interested. 

A grave and learned Harvard professor 
happened to pass just then, and his horror 
was unconcealed. Senator Sumner talking 
with a laboring man ! And apparently in- 
terested, too! It was horrible! 

He stepped up to the Senator and in- 
quired sarcastically, "Learning how to dig 
ditches, Mr. Sumner?" 

As gravely as though addressing the Sen- 
ate, Sumner replied — after lifting his hat to 
the laborer as he walked away — "I got more 
from that man, professor, in five minutes 
than I ever got from you, and I've known 
you twenty-five years." 



President Theodore Roosevelt was elect- 
ed to the lower house of the New 
York Legislature when twenty-one years 
old. He was not a heavy young man, but 
firmly knit and athletic. In the house 
was a member from New York City who 
fairly dominated that body, so fierce was 
he; he was a bully and did not hesitate to 
insult his colleagues upon the slightest 



ANECDOTES OE GREAT ORATORS. 



7?> 



provocation. He was a heavy fellow, 
physically, and had the reputation of being 
afraid of nothing. 

Young Roosevelt made no demonstration 
for the first few days, although the bully had 
sneered at him two or three times and de- 
nominated him as "one of de girlie boys dat 
tinks dey knows it all," but there is an end 
to all things. Encouraged by Roosevelt's 
apparent peaceableness, the autocrat openly 
insulted the youthful legislator. 

Roosevelt, when the other had finished, 
arose in his seat and without heat or pas- 
sion, but in the calmest of tones, told the 
tyrant, in a deliberate way, that he was a 
liar. There could be no mistake, for Roose- 
velt was looking straight at the fellow. Be- 
fore taking his seat again Roosevelt ven- 
tured the statement that he was ready at all 
times to back up whatever he said. 

The bully colored up, glared at hir antag- 
onist, settled himself in his chair and said 
nothing. He was cowed by a really brave 
man. 



"Be as good as you can" has been a 
standard saying since that time, for all the 
daily newspapers of the United States 
printed it the following morning. 



No one loved a joke more than President 
McKinley, and the dignity of his lofty sta- 
tion did not always debar the Chief i\Iagis- 
trate from having a hearty laugh. How- 
ever, during his residence in the White 
House official etiquette has served to keep 
the presidential pleasantries from escaping 
to the outside world. 

It may not be known, generally at least, 
that President McKinley was the originator 
of a popular phrase. In 1896, during the 
progress of the campaign of that year, he 
went to the railway station to bid goodbye 
to several western newspaper men who had 
stopped off to pay him a visit. 

As the train moved out of the station 
Major McKinley waved his right hand in 
an admonitory sort of a way, smiled and 
said, "Now, boys, be as good as you can." 



Rev. Phillips Brooks and two or three 
other noted American clergymen were to- 
gether in London one Sunday and decided 
to go and hear a prominent English divine 
that day. This divine was not permeated 
with a love for the United States and its 
people; on the contrary, he never neglected 
an opportunity to say something uncom- 
plimentary. 

This day he was evidently in a bad 
humor, for he gave the Americans several 
"digs," winding up with the assertion that 
the Yankees could always be singled out in 
a crowd because of their lack of height. 

"If there are any Americans in the house 
let them stand up," remarked the clergyman, 
"and you will see that I am right in what I 
have said." 

Dr. Brooks arose and the congregation 
looked upon him with amazement. A mag- 
nificent specimen of manhood he was, and 
the man in the pulpit was bothered. 

"I am not among the largest, physically, 
of the men of my country," said Dr. 
Brooks in his sonorous voice, which pene- 
trated to every part of the sacred edifice ; 
"on the contrary I would not attract more 
than passing attention in an assemblage of 
people in the United States ; but I have two 
or three friends with me who can be said 
to fairly represent the voting and fighting 
population of the republic." 

One after another the reverend gentle- 
man's companions arose and stood erect, 
and in spite of the fact that Englishmen are 
not easily provoked to laughter, some of the 
smiles indulged in at the British divine's 
expense were rather audible. 



74 



ANECDOTES OF GREAT ORATORS. 



STORIES TOLD OF AND BY LINCOLN. 



I^HE stories told of and by Abraham 
, ff Lincoln are innumerable. The great 
President always illustrated his speeches 
(before his election to the Presidency) with 
anecdotes, and when in the White House 
usually resorted to them to make his mean- 
ing clearer to those with whom he was talk- 
ing. 

At the White House one day some gentle- 
men were present from the West, excited 
and troubled about the commissions or omis- 
sions of the administration. 

The President heard them patiently, and 
then replied: 

"Gentlemen, suppose all the property you 
have were in gold, and you had put it in the 
hands of Blondin to carry across the 
Niagara river on a rope, would you shake 
the cable, or keep shouting out to him, 
'Blondin, stand up a little straighter— 
Blondin, stoop a little more — go a little 
faster — lean a little more to the north — 
lean. a little more to the south?' No! you 
would hold your breath as well as your 
tongue, and keep your hands off until he 
was safe over. 

"The government is carrying an immense 
weight. Untold treasures are in her hands. 
They are doing the very best they can. 
Don't badger them. Keep silence, and we'll 
get you safe across." 

At one of the afternoon receptions at the 
White House, a stranger shook hands with 
the President, and as he did so remarked, 
casually, that he was elected to Congress 
about the time Mr. Lincoln's term as Repre- 
sentative expired. 

"Yes," said the President, "you are from 

," mentioning the state. "I remem-ber 

reading of your election in a newspaper one 
morning on a steamboat going down to 
Mount Vernon." 



At another time a gentleman addressed 
him, saying: 

"I presume, Mr. President, you have for- 
gotten me?" 

"No," was the prompt reply ; "your name 
is Flood. I saw you last twelve years ago, 
at ," naming the place and the occa- 
sion. "I am glad to see," he continued, 
"that the Flood flows on." 



Subsequent to his re-election a deputation 
of bankers from various sections were intro- 
duced one day by the Secretary of the 
Treasury. After a few moments of general 
conversation, Mr. Lincoln turned to one of 
them and said: 

"Your district did not give me so strong 
a vote at the last election as it did in i860." 

"I think, sir, that you must be mistaken," 
replied the banker. "I have the impression 
that your majority was considerably in- 
creased at the last election." 

"No," rejoined the President, "you fell 
off about six hundred votes." 

Then taking down from the bookcase the 
official canvass of i860 and 1864, he re- 
ferred to the vote of the district named, and 
proved to be quite right in his assertion. 

When Lincom was a farm-hand, when his 
chances of becoming President were appar- 
ently the slimmest of any boy living, he had 
hopes, and would assert that some day he 
would be a great man. Mrs. Crawford, 
wife of the farmer for whom "Abe" was 
working, reproved him one day for bother- 
ing the girls in her kitchen, and asked him 
what he supposed would ever become of 
him. He answered that he was going to 
be President of the United States. 

Abe usually did the milling for the fam- 
ily, and at first had to go a long distance, but 
later on a horse-mill was started near Gen- 




CHARLES SUMNER, one of the most classic of American statesmen and orators, 
was born at Boston in 1811, and died at Washington in 1874. His one great ambition, 
manifested early in life, was to become a scholar, and to that end he studied all subjects 
and languages. He was chosen to the United States Senate, taking high rank in that body, 
the membership of which previous to i860 included many of the most famous men of the 
country. As a statesman and legislator he was conscientious to a fault, and Alassachusetts 
will always fondly cherish the memory of one of her greatest sons. 



76 



ANECDOTES OF GREAT ORATORS. 



tryville. Abe hitched his "okl mare" to the 
mill and started her, with impatience. She 
did not move very lively, and he "touched 
her up" and started to say, "Get up, you old 
hussy !" 

The words "get up" fell from his lips, and 
then he became unconscious, caused by a 
kick from the mare. After several hours 
he came to, and the first thing he said was, 
"You old hussy !" 

In after years he explained it thus: 
"Probably the muscles of my tongue had 
been set to speak the words when the ani- 
mal's heels knocked me down, and my mind, 
like a gun, stopped half-cocked, and only 
went off when consciousness returned." 



world seemed wider and fairer to me, and I 
was a more hopeful and confident being 
from that time." 



Regarding the murmurings to the effect 
that he was "too easy" when applied to for 
pardons on behalf of soldiers, he said : 

"Some of our generals complain that I 
impair discipline and subordination in the 
army by my pardons and respites, but it 
makes me rested, after a day's hard work, 
if I can find some good excuse for saving a 
man's life ; and I go to bed happy as I think 
how joyous the signing of my name makes 
him and his family." 



"Abe" "flatboated" on the Mississippi 
once. One day two strangers asked to be 
taken to the steamer coming up the river. 
"Abe" did so, and when he had them and 
their luggage on the boat, they threw him a 
silver half dollar each. 

One day, while the Cabinet was assem- 
bled in the White House, Mr. Lincoln re- 
lated the incident to Secretary of State 
Seward, and said: 

"I could scarcely believe my eyes. Yon 
may think it was a very little thing, but it 
v/as the most important instant of my life. 
I could scarcely believe that I, a poor boy, 
had earned a dollar in less than a day. The 



After the "Trent" affair, when Mason and 
Slidell had been given up, President Lin- 
coln was asked if it was not a great trial to 
surrender the two captured commissioners. 
Said he : 

"Yes, that was a pretty bitter pill to swal- 
low, but I contented myself with believing 
that England's triumph in the matter would 
be short-lived, and that after ending our war 
successfully we should be so powerful that 
we could call England to account for all the 
embarrassments she had inflicted upon us. 
"I felt a good deal like the sick man in 
Illinois, who was told he probably hadn't 
many days longer to live, and he ought to 
make peace with any enemies he might have. 
"He said the man he hated worst of all 
was a fellow named Brown, in the next vil- 
lage, and he guessed he had better com- 
mence on him first. So Brown was sent for, 
and when he came the sick man began to 
say, in a voice as meek as Moses^ that he 
wanted to die at peace with all his fellow- 
creatures, and hoped he and Brown could 
now shake hands and bury all their enmity. 
"The scene was becoming altogether too 
pathetic for Brown, who had to get out his 
handkerchief and wipe the gathering tears 
from, his eyes. It wasn't long before he 
melted and gave his hand to his neighbor, 
and they had a regular love-feast. 

"After a parting that would have softened 
the heart of a grindstone. Brown had about 
reached the room door, when the sick man 
rose up on his elbow and said, 'But see here. 
Brown ; if I should happen to get well, 
mind, that old grudge stands.' 

"So I thought if this nation should hap- 
pen to get well, we might want that old 
grudge against England to stand." 



AFTER-DINNER SPEECHES. 



t^* 5^* ;^* 

What Orators Have Said When the Cigars and Coffee Were Passed Around. 



t^* ti?* t^* 



OSSIBLY more bright things have 
been said in the course of after-din- 
ner speeches than in the labored efforts of 
statesmen ; and, for that matter, some of 
the utterances of those who have spoken at 



banquets have had more influence in de- 
termining the fate of nations than the 
studied addresses of Cabinet Ministers and 
others in Congress, ParHament, and other 
law-making bodies. 



GROVER CLEVELAND SAYS "PUSH." 



N an address delivered by ex-President 
Grover Cleveland to the graduates of 
Pierce College at Philadelphia on December 
21, 1900, is contained so many good points 
that it is worth reading and preserving. 

In his talk to the students Mr. Cleve- 
Icind said in part: 

"The true golden rule lies at the founda- 
tion of all that makes life worth living and 
is the parent of every success worth gaining. 

"Of course, in attempting to win success 
you are in a race with your fellows, but you 
need not run a foul race nor treacherously 
disable your competitors." 

Continuing, Mr. Cleveland said the world 
owes us just such a living as we can gain by 
hard work, the exercise of all our mental 
faculties, a scrupulous adherence to the 
rules of honesty, and a never failing obedi- 
ence to the dictates of enlightened con- 
science. 

"To one thus properly conditioned," he 
added, "there is nothing more exhilarating 
or stimulating than to see gathering to- 
gether in his path adverse circumstances 



and to feel the thrill that gives signal of the 
determined rush against him." 

Mr. Cleveland emphasized the importance 
of self-reliance and perseverance, and con- 
tinuing, said : 

"If you find the rock of impossibility in 
your path, go around it rather than beat 
yourself to death against it, but in the new 
path still persevere, and if it shall plainly 
appear to you that an overruling Providence 
is dn-ecting you in a way different from that 
of your choice, follow the new way submis- 
sively, and again perseveringly." 

After citing several instances of persever- 
ance and self-reliance on the part of indi- 
viduals, Mr. Cleveland resumed : 

"When an in-door crowd disperses, and 
together leaves the audience-room, each in- 
dividual must push ahead or lose the posi- 
tion already gained. So in the pursuit of 
the living the world owes us we must push 
— not to injure or trample on others, but 
to hold and improve our positions in the 
general onward rush. A young man in 
search of employment found himself in the 



77 




DAVID BENNETT HILL' is one of the most resourceful and astute politicians the 
country ever produced. He was bom at Havana, Chemung (now Schuyler) County, New 
York, August 29, 1843, and took up his residence at Elmira twenty years later, entering 
upon the practice of law there. In 1882 he was elected Mayor of that citj^ but resigned 
the same year to take the Lieutenant-Governorship, when Grover Cleveland was chosen 
Governor. Two years later he became Governor, and in 1885 was elected Governor. When 
his term was ended he was elected to the United States Senate by the N-ew York Legis- 
lature, and served six years. 



AFTER-DINNER SPEECHES. 



79 



counting-room of a large establishment, in 
the presence of the proprietor, who, after 
telling him he had no need of his services, 
began questioning him for amusement. 
Among other things he asked him if he had 
adopted any motto for his guidance. 

" T have,' said the young man, 'and I 
saw it on the door of the room as I en- 
tered.' 

" 'What was that ?' said the merchant. 

" 'Push,' was the prompt reply. 

"Of course, such a story could not be 
worth telling if it had not the usual sequel 
— employment on the spot — a life-long ca- 
reer of prosperity, and an immense fortune 
for the young man. If the counting-room 
door had opened outward, with 'pull" on it 
instead of 'push,' I suppose it would have 
been quite a different matter ; but for all 
that the young man's motto was not a bad 
one. 

"I must not longer delay reference to one 
of the most vicious errors that by any pos- 
sibility can gain a lodgment in the mind of 
any one who has set out to make a fight 
for the living that the world owes us all — 
I mean the notion that if the daily allotted 
task is done and if the exact time pre- 
scribed for daily labors is spent in work — 
every duty that can profitably be discharged 
has been met and every advantage that can 
follow faithful service has been gained. 

"It is a dreadful mistake to suppose that 
a little extra effort in favor of the work 
in hand and in the interest of an employer 
passes unnoticed, or that it will remain un- 
noticed. The neglect of such effort may, 
therefore, be a serious hindrance to present 
advancement, besides breeding habits and 



methods of business which, if the field of 
independent activity and competition is ever 
reached, will prove a handicap to success. 
"We must promptly and nnally exclude 
as our standard of success mere money get- 
ting for its own sake. It would be a strange 
perversion of our conception of life and its 
aims and aspirations if we should be 
brought to the conclusion that the fortunate 
gambler, the bold and lucky robber or bur- 
glar, or even the idle, weak, purposeless in- 
heritor of riches is a successful man. 

"When we speak of life, we mean a life 
of decency and active usefulness, and when 
we speak of success, we mean something 
that aids such a life and makes it more use- 
ful and not less decent — something that does 
not smother conscience or dull the sense of 
moral responsibility which no one should 
attempt to escape. We mean the accom- 
plishment of such ends as enable us to dis- 
charge better and easier our obligations to 
others and which fit us to make the world 
or at least a larger section of it happier by 
our lives and efforts." 

In conclusion ]\Ir. Cleveland said that 
the greatest danger attending the accumu- 
lation of wealth is found in its hardening 
effect upon the heart and conscience and its 
suffocation of our best feelings and im- 
pulses, and added : 

"It is decreed that we can surely exact 
our dues from the world and at the same 
time can achieve a success that shall be 
glorious. To do this it is only required of 
us to be true to ourselves, true to our duty 
to humanity, obedient to the divine law, 
and submissive to the will of God." 



MARK TWA-IN'S ACCOUNT OF IT. 



I HERE has been much said and writ- 
ten in connection with the downfall 
of the Confederacy, but until Mark Twain 



stepped forward and in a burst of confidence 
"fessed up," there were several details which 
remained to be adjusted and dovetailed. At 




WILLIAM BOURKE COCKRAN, one of the most elocinent men in pnblic life during 
the latter years of the Nineteenth Century, was born in Ireland in 1854, received a fine 
education in his native country and in France, and then came to the L"^nited States. He w^as 
a natural politician, and New York City sent him to the Fifty-second and Fifty-third Con- 
gresses. In 1892 he made a stirring speech at the Democratic National Convention in oppo- 
sition to. the nomination of Mr. Cleveland for the Presidency, being then a favorite with 
Tammany, and although Mr. Cleveland was successful Mr. Cockran's effort gave him 
national fame. Gifted with a striking presence and a superb voice, Mr. Cockran has, in 
addition, a flow of language excelled by few. 



AFTER-DINNER SPEECHES. 



8i 



a banquet of veterans in Baltimore Mr. 
Twain openly conceded, in the hearing of 
all present, that when he took his shoulder 
out from under the Confederacy it had to 
come down. He assumed all responsibility 
for his action and said he thought perhaps 
things were as they should be. 

After telling the story of a battle in 1861 
in which he was engaged — he couldn't 
remember the name it went by, but it was 
the bloodiest engagement^, Mr. Twain said, 
in the history of wars — he proceeded to 
remark : 

"That battle had a name, but I have for- 
gotten it. It is no use to keep private in- 
formation which you can't show off. Now 
look at the way history does. It takes the 
battle of Boonville, fought near by, about 
the date of our slaughter and shouts its 
teeth loose over it, and yet never even men- 
tions ours ; doesn't even call it an 'affair ;' 
doesn't call it anything at all ; never even 
heard of it. Whereas, what are the facts? 
Why, these : In the battle of Boonville 
there were two thousand men engaged on 
the Union side, and about as many on the 
other — supposed to be. The casualties, all 
told, were two men killed ; and not all of 
these were killed outright, but only half of 
them, for the other man died in hospital 
next day. I know that, because his great- 
uncle was second cousin to my grandfather, 
who spoke three languages, and was per- 
fectly honorable and upright, though he 
had warts all over him, and used to — but 
never mind about that, the facts are just as 
I say, and I can prove it. Two men killed 
in that battle of Boonville, that's the whole 
result. All the others got away — on both 
sides. 

"Now, then, in our battle there were just 
fifteen men engaged, on our side — all bri- 
gadier generals but me, and I was a second 
lieutenant. On the other side there was one 
man. He was a stranger. We killed him. 



It was night, and we thought he was an 
army of observation ; he looked like an army 
of observation — in fact, he looked bigger 
than an army of observation would in the 
daytime; and some of us believed he was 
trying to surround us, and some thought 
he was going to try to turn our position, 
and so we shot him. Poor fellow, he prob- 
ably wasn't an army of observation, after 
all ; but that wasn't our fault ; as I say, he 
had all the look of it in that dim light. It 
was a sorrowful circumstance, but he took 
the chances of war, and he drew the wrong 
card ; he overestimated his fighting strength, 
and he suffered the likely result ; but he fell 
as the brave should fall — with his face to 
the foe and feet to the field — so we buried 
him with the honors of war, and took his 
things. 

"So began and ended the only batt4e in 
the history of the world where the opposing 
force WAS utterly exterminated, swept 
from the face of the earth — to the last man. 
And yet, you don't know the name of that 
battle ; you don't even know the name of 
that man. Now, then, for the argument. 
Suppose I had continued in the war, and 
gone on as I began, and exterminated the 
opposing force every time — every two 
weeks — where would your war have been? 
Why, you see yourself, the conflict would 
have been too one-sided. There was but one 
honorable course for me to pursue, and I 
pursued it. I withdrew to private life, and 
gave the Union cause a chance. 

"There, now, you have the whole thing in 
a nutshell ; it was not my presence in the 
Civil War that determined that tremendous 
contest — it was my retirement from it that 
brought the crash. It left the Confederate 
side too weak. 

"And yet. when I stop and think, I can- 
not regret my course. No, when I look 
abroad over this happy land, with its 
wounds healed and its enmities forgotten ; 



82 



AFTER-DINNER SPEECHES. 



this reunited sisterhood of majestic States; 
this freest of free commonwealths the sun in 
his course shines upon ; this one sole country 
nameable in history or tradition where a 
man is a man and manhood the only roy- 
alty; this people ruled by the justest and 
wholesomest laws and government yet de- 
vised by the wisdom of men ; this mightiest 
of the civilized empires of the earth, in 



numbers, in prosperity, in progress and in 
promise ; and reflect that there is no North, 
no South any more, but that as in 
the old time, it is now and will re- 
main forever, in the hearts and speech of 
Americans, our land, our country, our 
giant empire, and the flag floating in its 
firmament our flag, I would not wish it 
otherv/ise." 



PRESIDENT McKINLEY ON ''DANGERS OF EMPIRE." 




ILLIAM McKINLEY, President 
of the United States, delivered an 
address before the Union League Club the 
evening of November 24th, 1900, shortly 
after his second election as Chief Magis- 
trate, in which he said: 

"Nothing in government can be more 
impressive than a national election, where 
the people delegate their power and invest 
their constitutional agents with authority 
to execute their behests. The very charac- 
ter of the transaction clothes it with sol- 
emnity. It is serious business. Its issues 
are always momentous. What a lesson in 
self-government it teaches! Nearly four- 
teen million voters on the same day, 
throughout every section of the United 
States, depositing their mandate and re- 
cording their will. Done by the people in 
their own communities, in the very pre- 
cincts of the home, under the supervision 
of their fellow citizens and chosen ofificials, 
and, to insure its freedom and independ- 
ence, the ballot a secret one. God forbid 
that any citizen selected for that sacred 
trust should ever attempt to divert the will 
of the sovereign people or tamper with the 
sanctity of their ballots. 

"Some disappointments follow all elec- 
tions; but all men rejoice when an election 
is so decisive as to admit of neither dis- 
pute nor contest. The value of a national 
victory can only be rightly measured and 



appreciated by what it averts as well as 
by what it accomplishes. It is fortunate 
for the party in power if it understands the 
true meaning of the result. Those charged 
by the people with administration and legis- 
lation are required to interpret as well as to 
execute the public will, and its rightful in- 
terpretation is essential to its faithful exe- 
cution. 

"Liberty has not lost, but gained in 
strength. The structure of the fathers 
stands secure upon the foundations on 
which they raised it, and is to-day, as it has 
been in the years past, and as it will be in 
the years to come, the 'government of the 
people, by the people and for the people.' 

"Be not disturbed; there is no danger 
from empire ; there is no fear for the repub- 
lic. 

"We cannot overestimate the great im- 
portance and the far-reaching consequences 
of the electoral contest which ended on the 
6th of November. It has to me no personal 
phase. It is not the triumph of an individ- 
ual, nor altogether of a party, but an em- 
phatic declaration by the people of what 
they believe and would have maintained in 
government. A great variety of subjects 
was presented and discussed in the progress 
of the campaign. We may differ as to the 
extent of the influence of the several issues 
involved, but we are all agreed as to cer- 
tain things which it settled. 




THEODORE ROOSEVELT. Twenty-fifth President of the United States: born in 
New York City, Oct. 27, 1858. He is of Dutch ancestry, and a member of the Dutch Re- 
formed Church; a soldier and a statesman; graduated at Harvard College in 1880; served 
several terms in the New York Assembly. April 6. 1807, ^le was appointed assistant secre- 
tary of the navy by President Wm. McKinley. The Republicans elected him governor of 
New York, for the term beginning Jan. 2, 1890, and the twenty-fifth Vice-President of the 
United States for the twenty-ninth quadrennial term, beginning March 4, T90T. At the 
death of President McKinley he became President, taking the oath of office at Buffalo, N. Y., 
Sept. 14, 1901. He was elected President in 1904. 



84 



AFTER-DINNER SPEECHES. 



"It records the unquestioned indorse- 
ment of the gold standard, industrial inde- 
pendence, broader markets, commercial 
expansion, reciprocal trade, the open door 
in China, the inviolability of public faith, 
the independence and authority of the ju- 
diciary, and peace and beneficent govern- 
ment under American sovereignty in the 
Philippines. American credit remains un- 
impaired, the American name unimpeached, 
the honor of American arms unsullied and 
the obligations of a righteous war and 
treaty of peace unrepudiated. 

"Nor is any accounting for the victory 
either just or accurate which leaves out of 
the calculation the almost unbroken column 



of labor engaged in mechanics and agricul- 
ture, which rejected the false doctrine of 
class distinction as having no place in this 
republic, and which rebuked those teach- 
ings which would destroy the faith of 
American manhood in American character 
and American institutions. The business 
men in every part oT the country, typified 
by this great organization, were a mighty 
factor in the recent contest. And may we 
not also ascribe much to the influence of 
the home, with its afifiliations? In any pre- 
vious election, was it greater, or in any 
did the deliberate counsels of the fireside 
determine more largely the vote of the 
electors?" 



WHAT TO DO WITH EX-PRESIDENTS. 



IX-PRESIDENT BENJAMIN 
HARRISON made the response to 
the toast "Hail, Columbia," at the banquet 
of the Columbia Club, of Indianapolis, 
given the night of December 31st, 1900, in 
which he suggested a new plan for the dis- 
posal of ex-Presidents of the United States. 
His idea was in accordance with the pop- 
ular Chinese method of getting rid of su- 
perfluous persons. Said he: 

"The decapitation of the ex-President 
when the oath of office has been adminis- 
tered to his successor would greatly vivify 
a somewhat tiresome ceremonial. And we 
may some time solve the newspaper prob- 
lem, what to do with our ex-Presidents, in 
that conclusive way. Until then, I hope an 
ex-President may be permitted to live 
somewhere midway between the house of 
the gossip and the crypt of the mummy. 
He will know, perhaps, in an especial way, 
how to show the highest honor to the Pres- 
idential office and the most courteous de- 
ference to the President. Upon great ques- 
tions, however — especially upon questions 
of constitutional law — you must give an ex- 



President his freedom or the ax — and it is 
too late to give me the ax." 

He was very happy, too, in his remarks 
in connection with the name of the Club. 

"Columbia should have been the name of 
the Western Hemisphere — the republican 
half of the world, the hemisphere without a 
King on the ground, the reserved world 
where God sent the trodden spirits of men 
to be revived; to find, where all things 
were primitive, man's primitive rights. 

"I estimate the gift of governmg faculty 
to be God's greatest gift to the Anglo- 
Saxon, and in the constitution of the United 
States, with its division of powers, its limi- 
tations upon the governing departments, 
and its sublime reservations in the interests 
of individual liberty, I see the highest 
achievement of that most rare faculty. 

"I have no argument to make here or 
anywhere against territorial expansion; but 
I do not, as some do, look to expansion as 
the safest and most attractive avenue of na- 
tional development. By the advantages of 
abundant and cheap coal and iron, of an 
enormous surplus of food products, and of 



AFTER-DINNER SPEECHES. 



85 



invention and economy in production we 
are now leading by a nose the original and 
the greatest of the colonizing nations. Aus- 
tralia and New Zealand loyally send their 
contingents to South Africa, but Great Bri- 
tain cannot hold the trade of her colonies 
against American ofiferings of a better or 
cheaper product. The Central and South 
American states, assured of our purpose 



not only to respect but to defend their au- 
tonomy, and finding the peace and social 
order which a closer and larger commercial 
intercourse with the world will bring, ofifer 
to our commerce a field, the full develop- 
ment of which will realize the eldorado. 
Hail to Columbia, ihe home of the free 
and from which only freedom can go 
out." 



BRIGHT THINGS SENATOR DEPEW HAS SAID 



\Q)\ NITED STATES Senator Chauncey 
Mitchell Depew is conceded to be 
one of the cleverest after-dinner speakers in 
the world. Even the English like him, al- 
though they do not, all at once, catch the 
points made by him. He is a favorite in 
London, and is kept busy every hour while 
in the metropolis of the world. 

Senator Depew has probably made more 
after-dinner talks than any man living. 

Here are a few of the good things he has 
said from time to time while at the banquet- 
board : 

"When I found that I was to respond ^o 
a toast, my astonishment was as intense as 
that which was expressed by the telegraph 
operator when she read a certain message 
under these circumstances: A man received 
an order in the morning to get up a panel 
and have a motto painted. in it for Christ- 
mas. He was so busy all day that he forgot 
the details, and telegraphed to his wife for 
them. The answer came back to him : 
"Unto us this day a child was born, nine feet 
long and three feet wide.' 



"One day, not long ago, I met a soldier 
who had been wounded in the face. He was 
a Union man, and I asked him in which 
battle he had been injured. 

" Tn the last battle of Bull Run, sir/ he 
replied. 



" 'But how could you get hit in the face at 
Bull Run ?' I asked. 

" 'Well, sir,' said the man, half-apologetic- 
ally, 'after I had run a mile or two I got 
careless and looked back.' 



"Speaking at a St. Andrew's Society din- 
ner, I remarked that if my jokes were not 
always appreciated immediately by the 
Scotsmen, by the time the next yearly din- 
ner came round they had always seen the 
point. 'I don't think that's a very funnv 
thing to say,' growled a handsome old Scot, 
who was sitting beside me. 

" 'Oh,' said I, 'that's all right. You'll 
see the fun in it in a year from now.' 



"There are certain portions of Vermont 
where the only recreation and pleasure of 
the inhabitants is the attendance upon fu- 
nerals. A friend of mine once went to one 
of these gatherings. After the preacher 
had concluded, he was startled by the under- 
taker, who got up and announced : 

" 'Friends will be patient ; the exercises 
are briefly postponed because the corpse has 
been mislaid.' 



"They tell the story of a Senator being 
shaved by an aged colored barber at the Arl- 
ington Hotel in Washington, and remarking 
to him, 'Uncle, you must have had among 




ROBERT COLLYER.— One of the most influential preachers in the United States 
is Rev. Robert Collyer, of New York City, and while this country claims him as her own 
he was born in Yorkshire, England, the year of his birth being 1822. When he came here 
he settled in a small Pennsylvania village, where he worked at his trade, meantime study- 
ing hard to fit himself for the pulpit. He felt that he was not in his element, and his rapid 
rise in his profession demonstrated that he was right. Iir appearance Mr. Collyer is one 
of the handsomest of men, being a giant in stature, well proportioned and possessing a 
pleasant face. 



AFTER-DINNER SPEECHES. 



87 



your customers many of my distinguished 
predecessors in the Senate — many of the 
men now dead who have occupied the place 
I now fill.' 

" 'Yes, sah,' said the barber, 'I'se known 
most all of dem. By de way, Senator, you 
remind me of Daniel Webster.' 

"The gratified statesman raised himself in 
his chair and placed his hand upon his fore- 
head. 'Ts it my brow?' 

*' 'No, boss,' said the barber, 'it is you 
breath.' 



"I went to a hotel in Georgia and said to 
the clerk, 'Where shall I autograph?' 

" 'Autograph ?' said the clerk. 

" 'Yes ; sign my name, you know.' 

" 'Oh, right here.' I signed my name in 
the register. In a little while in came some 
Georgia crackers. One of them advanced 
to the desk. 

"'Will you autograph?' asked the clerk, 
with a smile. 

" 'Cert'nly,' said the Georgia cracker, 
beaming. 'Mine's rye. What's yours, fel- 
lows ?' 

"The clerk treated with good grace. Then 
he leaned back and glared at me. I felt 
sorry for him and was somewhat conscience 
stricken. 

" 'Too bad,' I said 'This is what comes 
from speaking a foreign language in one's 
own country.' 



"The wife of a fisherman was approached 
one day by his fellow workers with a state- 
ment that her husband had been drowned. 
Her grief was inconsolable, and her despair 
was heard through the whole village. She 
went into convulsions. Next day they came 
to her again with the somewhat alleviating 
announcement that the body had been found. 
'But,' they said, 'it's condition is dreadful.' 

" 'Well/ she said, 'tell me the worst.' 



" 'Well,' said they, 'madam, he is covered 
with eels.' 

" 'Covered with eels ?' 

" 'Yes, madam ; we hated to tell you, but 
it is true. He is covered with eels.' 

" 'Well,' said the widow, drying her tears, 
'set him again.' 



"In the Berkshire hills there was a fu- 
neral, and as they gathered in the little par- 
lor, there came the typical New England 
female, who mingles curiosity with her sym- 
pathy. As she glanced around the darkened 
room she said to the bereaved widow: 

" 'When did you get that new eight-day 
clock?' 

" 'We ain't got no new eight-day clock,' 
was the reply. 

"'You ain't? What's that in the corner 
there?' 

" * Why, no, that's not an eight-day clock ; 
that's the deceased ; we stood him on end to 
make room, for the mourners.' 



"One day I held a conversation with old 
John, the farmer. 

" 'Well, Uncle John,' I said, ' how are 
things?' 

" 'Bad enough, Chauncey, bad enough,* 
replied the old man. 

" 'But,' said I, 'things look prosperous 
hereabouts.' 

" 'Yes,' said John, 'they do, for dang it 
all. Providence has interfered ; but we can't 
expect Providence to interfere every year. 
After all, we must have whisky for comfort 
and the grave for rest.' 



"A college friend of mine, translated from 
the law to railroading, rescued a bankrupt 
corporation from ruin and placed it upon a 
prosperous basis, and then administered its 
affairs with consummate ability. When he 
returned, many years afterwards, to his 



88 



AFTER-DINNER SPEECHES. 



country home and sat as of old upon the nail 
keg of the corner grocery, the wise men of 
the neighborhood gathered about him, and 
one said : 

" 'Is is true that you are getting a sal- 
ary of more than ten thousand dollars a 
year ?' 

"My friend said it was true. 

" 'Well,' said the local oracle, 'that shows 
what cheek and circumstances will do for a 
man.' 



"While in Peekskill, I went to call on two 
old friends, a widow and maiden lady. 

"Said the widow : 

" 'Well, I married when I was quite 
young. My husband died and I had him 
cremated. In about two years I married 
again ; he died and I had him cremated. I 
married a third time and lived to cremate 
him.' 

" 'Ah,' answered the maiden lady, 'won- 
derful are the ways of Providence. Here 
I've lived all these years and never have 
been able to get married to one man, and 
vou've had husbands to burn.' 



"The teacher of the district school up at 
Peekskill called up the three brightest boys 
in his class one day and said : 

" 'Tom, you are a Republican ?' 

" 'Yes, sir.' 

" 'And, Jimi, you are a Prohibitionist ?' 

" 'Yes, sir.' 

" 'And, Sam, you are a Democrat ?' 

" 'Yes, sir.' 

" 'Well, now, the one of you that can give 
me the best reason why he belongs to his 
party can have this woodchuck I caught on 
my way to school this morning. Now, Tom, 
why are you a Republican?' 

" 'I am a Republican,' said the boy, 'be- 
cause the Republican party saved the coun- 
try in this war, abolished slavery, and 
brought about the resumption of specie pay- 



ments, and has done everything for the good 
of the country.' 

" 'That's very good,' said the teacher. 

" 'I am a Prohibitionist,' said the Prohibi- 
tion boy glibly, 'because rum is filling the 
jail and filling the poorhouse, and ultimately 
it will ruin the country, and if we could 
have prohibition we would not need any 
prison or poorhouse. Everybody would be 
well off.' 

" 'That is a good reason,' said the teacher. 

" 'Now, what is the reason you are a 
Democrat, Sam ?' 

" 'Well, sir,' was the reply, 'I am a Dem- 
ocrat because I want the woodchuck.' 



"It is easier for a man of ability to get on 
in a new country and with fresh surround- 
ings than in the neighborhood where he was 
born. Where everyone has known him 
from childhood he often is handicapped by 
the unforgotten frivolities of youth, and 
reaches middle life before he has outgrown 
the feeling that he is still a boy, while as a 
new settler he starts at once at the level of 
his ascertained capabilities. 



"There is not a joke, nor a mot, nor a 
scintilla of humor irradiating the Revolu- 
tionary statesmen. There is a stilted dig- 
nity about their utterances which shows that 
they were always posing in heroic attitudes. 
If they lived and moved in family, social 
and club life as we understand it, the dis- 
mal gloom of their companionship accounts 
for the ecstatic enjo3^ment which their con- 
temporaries took in the three-hour sermons 
then common from the pulpit. 



"There is an old story of a lawyer named 
Strange and his wife having a conference 
as to the things he wished done after he had 
departed this life. 

" 'I want a headstone put over me, my 




SHELBY M. CULLOM, senior United States Senator from 
by a fourth election in 1901 by the Legislature of his State. He 
1883: Senator Cullom has been in public life nearly fifty years, 
the strongest men in the United States Senate in debate. Born in 
in 1829, Senator Cullom has been a resident of Illinois since 1853 ; 
university education. He was elected Governor in 1876 and 1880 
his seat in the United States Senate. He has been a delegate to 
Conventions, and placed General Grant in nomination in 1872. 



Illinois, was complimented 
succeeded David Davis in 
and is regarded as one of 
Wayne County, Kentucky, 
; received an academic and 
, resigning in 1883 to take 
many Republican National 



90 



AFTER-DINNER SPEECHES. 



dear,' said the lawyer, 'with the simple in- 
scription — "Here lies an honest lawyer." 

"The wife expressed surprise that he did 
not wish his name put on the headstone. 

" Tt will not be needful,' he responded, 
'for those who pass by and read that 
inscription will invariably remark : "That's 
Strange." 

"An Englishman who had heard the story 
essayed to repeat it to his friend. 

" 'I heard a good one the other night,' he 
says, 'a very good one, indeed. There was 
a barrister by the name of — his name was — 
well, I don't just think of the name now, ye 
know ; but it's of no consequence whatever. 
You see, he was telling his widow — that is, 
his wife — what to do after he died, and he 
says : "I want this inscription on my monu- 
ment : 'here lies an honest barrister.' You'll 
get the point in a moment. It's very funny. 
Well, his wife says, "How in the world is 
that going to tell who you are ?" Says he : 
"Well, everybody that reads the inscription 
will, say : 'That's devilish singular.' " 



"As an employer of thirty-five thousand 
men, in all sorts of positions, I wish to say 
that my experience leads me to believe that 
the men who fail to succeed fail because 
they do not grasp the opportunities before 
them. I went into the office of one of the 
great lawyers of New York and said to him : 

" 'You are working yourself to death !' 

"He replied: 

" 'I know it, and will tell you why. It 
is because everyone in that room full of 
clerks is watching to see when I go out, so 
that he can fool away his time, or watching 
the clock for the hour to quit work. 

" 'If there were a single one who would 
take a case and work on it all the afternoon 
and into the evening and the night, if neces- 
sary, as I did, I would make him my part- 
ner, but there is no one ; so I am working 
myself to death.' 



"When the Puritans reached Amsterdam, 
though there were only four hundred :>f 
them, and all in the direst penury and mis- 
ery, yet they found ample time and oppor- 
tunity to dispute about creeds and beliefs. 
So grave were their differences that there 
would have been four hundred churches, 
each with a single member, but for the pure 
spirit and lofty zeal of John Robinson. It 
was Robinson who once preached a sermon 
which lasted all day, and then they were 
refreshed by psalm singing which continued 
all night, and according to Puritan stand- 
ards of enjoyment, of that period, they had 
a thoroughly good time. 



"A story goes further than an argument, 
and a joke captures more than a speech. It 
matters not whether it be a crisis in national 
affairs, a critical time in finance, disturb- 
ing contentions in the church or varying for- 
tunes of party leaders ; the public finds com- 
fort somewhere by the presentation and 
universal acceptance of a humorous or ludi- 
crous side of the situation. 



"The American government of the people 
is stable because the people are satisfied 
with what they do for themselves ; because 
in all that makes citizenship worth the hav- 
ing, in larger returns from labor, the more 
frequent possession of individual homes, in 
the general intelligence of the people, in the 
universal exercise by educated intelligence 
of the right of sovereignty, in respect for 
law and order, and the results which come 
from the enforcement of law and the main- 
tenance of order, the citizen gets more out 
of life in this country than he does anywhere 
in the world an hundredfold. 



"The Yankee can adapt himself to the 
necessities of his environment. In Egypt 
he is the general of the forces of the 
Khedive ; in the Sandwich Islands he is the 



AFTER-DINNER SPEECHES. 



9r 



prime minister, and a recent traveler says 
that in Ashantee he found him acting as 
the master of amusements in the court of 
his sable and savage majesty. 



"The good ship Mayflower was only sixty 
tons burden, and yet she carried more furni- 
ture than could the largest of the Anglo- 
American fleet of ocean steamers to-day. 
There are twenty millions claiming Puritan 
descent in this country, and every one of 
them can show you a chair, chest, or table, 
which came over in the Mayflower. 



"My fish story is a remarkable one. For 
many years my numerous friends have hon- 
ored me by sending me their first salmon 
catch of the season. It began fully ten years 
ago from a dinner speech of mine when I 
requested all the guests to send me a big 
fish in the spring. That year, by a precon- 
certed action, they managed to deliver all 
the fish on the same- day, and my house was 
filled with them'. 

"Now, if you approach my home any 
pleasant day in the late spring, you will see 
a messenger boy struggling under the 
weight of a pail of ice. 'What have you 
got there, my little man ?' you ask. 

" 'Oh, a big salmon packed in ice for Mr. 
Depew,' he will answer. Sometimes I have 
counted twenty messenger boys distributed 
along the road from my country house to 
the station. And my cellar is overflowing 
with cracked ice and salmon. Of course, I 
send a few to my neighbors, and the rest I 
have pickled, and mighty good it is that 
way. But the most pleasing part of my 
fishing experience comes in when I meet the 
people who have sent the fish. 'Your salmon 
was the finest I ever in my life tasted,' is 
what I invariably say to each and every one. 



"Abraham Lincoln once remarked that 
nothing could be quite as contagious as a 
good fish story, for if you tell one every- 
body else immediately thinks of another lie 
as big as yours, and so the yarns go round. 



Senator Depew, when asked how it was 
he had lived to attend so many dinners and 
banquets — more than 2,000 — he replied that 
the man who would dine out and often, must 
lay down four rules for himself, and obey 
them : 

"He must drink very little. 

"He must smoke very little. 

"He must never eat a late supper. 

"He must eat very little of solids only. 

"The man who eats much or drinks much 
cannot make a good speech. The old-time 
orator neither ate nor drank for hours be- 
fore speaking. When Henry Ward Beecher 
was going to speak in the evening he gen- 
erally took a glass of milk and a piece of 
bread about five o'clock. 

"When I speak at a banquet I eat the 
same as if I were at home, but I am careful 
about the wine. I drink only champagne, 
and not much of that. The story that Daniel 
Webster could only make a good speech 
when full of brandy, and which is univer- 
sally believed, has sent thousands of young 
lawyers and clergymen to drunkards' graves. 

"Very hard drinkers, after a time, can do 
nothing at all except under the influence 
of stimulants; but unless a man is a con- 
firmed drunkard the more liquor he takes 
the muddier his thoughts. 

"My funny stories are made up from in- 
cidents in my everyday life, with a change 
of characters and an invention of dialogue 
to fit whatever they are intended to illu.^- 
trate." 



92 



AFTER-DINNER SPEECHES. 



GOVERNMENT AND THE PEOPLE. 



ENERAL DAVID B. HENDER- 
_ SON, of Iowa, Speaker of the Na- 
tional House- of Representatives, who was 
the guest of honor at a banquet of the 
Hamilton Club of Chicago the night of 
August 29th, 1900, said in reply to a toast: 

"The name of Hamilton suggests three 
thoughts that may be appropriate. First, 
a strong government; second, a just gov- 
ernment; third, a protective government. 

"In this great world of ours, full of pow- 
erful, massive, aggressive governments, 
this nation as a government must be strong 
to take care of our people and their inter- 
ests. No government can be strong that 
is not just. We cannot hold the love and 
support of our people unless we are just 
in the enactment, in the interpretation, and 
in the execution of law. 

"No sfovernment will answer the duties 



of the American people that is not a pro- 
tective government. These three princi- 
ples were the cardinal ones of that great 
statesman and patriot, Alexander Hamil- 
ton. This government must protect capi- 
tal and labor and give each a fair chance. 
It must protect the rich and the poor, the 
black and the white and the brown, Mr. 
Bryan, the old and the young, the men and 
the women, too, aye, and the children. Un- 
less we have a government big enough to 
extend its protective power everywhere that 
old flag floats it will come short of its duty. 
Aye, and, gentlemen, it must be a govern- 
ment that will protect its citizens in the 
heart of Chicago or in the heart of far- 
away China. 

"These doctrines of Hamilton, which I 
assume are supported by this club, must be 
the text-word of the hour." 



MEANS FREEDOM FOR FILIPINOS. 



(RESIDENT SETH LOW. of Co- 
lumbia University, in an address to 
tiie students of Monmouth College, Sep- 
tember 13th, 1900, declared that the admin- 
istration of affairs by the government of 
the United States in the Philippine Islands 
meant personal, political and religious 
freedom for its inhabitants, who, after cen- 
turies of oppression by the Spaniards, 
could hardly appreciate, at first, the policy 
laid out by this government regarding 
them. When President Low delivered this 
address, only a portion of which is given, 
before peace had been thoroughly re- 
stored in the various islands of the archi- 
pelago: 

"But it is said the Filipinos themselves 
are in arms against our authority. That is 
not conclusive. In the first place, it is not 
all the FiHpinos; and in the second, it may 
easily be that the children of chose who are 



in arms will be more than glad that Ameri- 
can authority has been established in the 
islands. 

"Surely, no honest American will doubt 
that in the long run the free speech, the 
free school, the free church, equality before 
the law, and freedom of opportunity, which 
are characteristic of the United States, will- 
be equally domesticated in the Philippine 
Islands to the full extent of the ability of 
the people to profit by them. If it be im- 
perialism to take these things to the Phil- 
ippine Islands, that have known nothing 
but the rule of Spain for centuries, I should 
say to those who think so, make the most 
of it. For myself I believe that the Filipi- 
nos, under the sovereignty of the United 
States, will enjoy more real freedom than 
they ever can command in any other way. 

"When Asfuinaldo attacked the Ameri- 




GENERAL DAVID BREJNINER HENDERSON,, of Iowa, was born a Scotchman, m 
1840, but his parents left the old country and settled in Illinois in 1S46, removing to Iowa 
in 1849. He was graduated from the I'pper Iowa Universitj^ and then studied law, but 
forsook Blackstone for ]\Iars, enlisting as a private in the Twelfth Iowa Volunteers, was 
elected first lieutenant, lost a leg in 1)attle and was discharged in 1863; when he got well 
he entered the service again as colonel of the Firty-sixth Iowa and was breveted Major- 
General of Volunteers for bravery; practiced law until 1882, when he was first elected to 
the Lower House of Congress. He was made Speaker of the House of the Fifty-sixth 
Congress in 1899, and re-elected Speaker in 1901. 



94 



AFTER-DINNER SPEECHES. 



can forces the term of service ot almost all 
the troops in the Philippines had expired. 
It is to the glory of the American name 
that not a man of them all took advantage 
of this circumstance to embarrass their 
commanders in the field. They understood 



perfectly, in the presence of an enemy in 
arms, that to desert the flag at such a junc- 
ture v^as unimaginable conduct for an 
American. Many a man thus laid down his 
life for his country after his term of ser- 
vice had expired." 



SHOULD ALWAYS BE READY FOR WAR, 



/p ENERAL JOSEPH WHEELER, U. 
\^ S. A., just before his retirement 
from the regular arhiy September ist, 1900, 
took occasion to declare himself upon the 
question of a standing army. General 
Wheeler was one of the most able Confeder- 
ate leaders duting the Civil War, was made 
tlVIajor-General of U. S. Volunteers at the 
outbreak of the Spanish War in 1898, and 
after service in Cuba and the Philippines 
was commissioned Brigadier-General in the 
regular army. 

In an address upon the occasion referred 
to General Wheeler said : 

"The enjoyment of peace is a blessed 
boon to humanity, but the history of the 
world, from its earliest periods, teaches that 
the only security for peace is to be always 
prepared and ready to engage in war. That 
nation whose people are ready to respond 
to a call to arms, with men and resources 
for any emergency, is the one that 'shall 
most certainly be able to avoid the desola- 
tion and horrors of war. It is largely for 
this reason that we encourage a martial 
spirit, the greatest, in fact the only firm 
barrier against aggression. 

"It matters little how great its wealth, its 
excellence in literature, and science, and art, 
a nation unprepared and indisposed to bat- 
tle in its defense forfeits the respect of the 
world. 

"We are now a great world power, and 
the destiny of the human race is in the fu- 
ture to be largely guided by the influence 



exerted by this government. This should 
be impressed upon the rising generation, 
and the memory of the flag of our country 
floating over the schoolhouse and songs 
breathing patriotic devotion within its walls 
should be indelibly connected with the first 
impressions of the youth of our land." 

At the Fourth of July banquet of the same 
year General Wheeler observed : 

"There is a great deal in a country being 
prepared for aggression, being prepared to 
defend its honor. Our country is always 
prepared, because our mothers instilled a 
martial spirit into their sons. The women of 
this country for generations have taught 
their sons that their highest duty and privi- 
lege was to fight for their country's honor 
and prestige. 

"It is an honored custom for us, the peo- 
ple of the greatest nation of the world, to 
devote one day in the year to celebrating the 
most momentous event in the world's his- 
tory. We call it Independence Day— the 
birthday of liberty. Liberty and independ- 
ence, the sweetest sound to human ears ; in- 
delibly grafted in the human heart ; touch- 
ing the foundations of the government. The 
value of these two words depends on their 
being interpreted in the spirit of the framers 
of the Declaration of Independence. Let us 
all, in each recurring anniversary of this 
day, have impressed on us the purpose of 
the forefathers and learn to reverence each 
day that flag which, wherever planted, in- 
sures liberty and freedom," 



AFTER-DINNER SPEECHES. 



95 



IT IS AMERICA'S CENTURY. 



T the banquet of the Columbia Club, 
of Indianapohs, held on the last 
night of the nineteenth century, Senator 
Albert J. Beveridge, of Indiana, was one of 
the distinguished guests, responding to the 
toast of "The Twentieth Century." 

This was his prediction: 

"The twentieth century will be Ameri- 
can. American thought will dominate it; 
American progress will give it color and 
direction; American deeds make it illus- 
trious. Before the clock of the centuries 
strikes the half hour in the hundred years 



now beginning the American Republic will 
be sought for arbiter of the disputes of na- 
tions, the justice of whose decrees every 
people will admit and whose power to en- 
force them none will dare resist, 

"Civilization will never lose its hold on 
Shanghai; civilization will never depart 
from Hongkong; the gates of Pekin will 
never again be closed to the methods of 
modern man. The regeneration of the 
world, physical as well as moral, has 
begun, and revolutions never move back- 
ward." 



SENATOR CULLOM AND PATRIOTISM. 



m\ NITED STATES SENATOR 

1'^'' SHELBY M. CULLOM, of Illi- 
nois, whose personal resemblance to Abra- 
ham Lincoln is remarkable, is one of the 
most forceful speakers in the country, 
and, like the martyred President, touches 
the hearts of the people when he talks. 
Replying to a toast on July 4th, 1900, at 
Watseka, III, the Senator told how the 
bond of union between North and South 
was restored: 

" 'Providence works in mysterious ways 
his wonders to perform,' and it has only 
been within the last few years that the 
former feeling of friendship and brother- 
hood has been restored. In 1898, as a 
nation, we were called upon to put an end 
to the oppression ajid cruelty practiced by 
Spain upon the poor, starving, and de- 
fenseless Cubans, against whom a war of 
extermination for years had been waged. 
The interference by the United States in 
the aflfairs of Cuba, which lay at our thresh- 
old, resulted in a war between Spain and 
this country. 

"It was the opportunity for the Southern 
States which had been in rebellion to show 



their loyalty to the government and the 
flag and take up arms for the country. The 
North, the South, and all sections came 
forward to the support of our government 
and the flag. 

"The conflict resulted in another tri- 
umph of arms and American valor, our sol- 
diers and sailors conquered the enemy and 
secured an honorable peace. As the result 
of our victory this nation found itself in 
possession of Cuba, Porto Rico, and the 
Philippines. We are trying to discharge 
our duty in dealing with all these islands. 

"To-day there is a condition in the world 
the like of which perhaps never existed 
before. We witness a condition hi China 
that is new and startling, and which stag- 
gers the judgment of all civilized nations. 
Civilization is met face to face with a 
problem exceedingly difficult to solve. 
Four hundred millions of people or more — 
the largest population of any country in 
the world, and perhaps the oldest — have 
come to such a condition that it becomes 
dangerous even to send the representatives 
of our government among them lest they 
may be injured in liberty and life while in 



96 



AFTER-DINNER SPEECHES. 



the performance of their duty — without 
hope of relief by the combined efforts of 
the several nations of the world. 

"We all agree that it is the duty of the 
government to give relief to American citi- 
zens, whether representatives of the gov- 
ernment officially, or plain citizens of the 
United States engaged in business, or 
whether they are there under the direction 
of .the Christian people of the nation. 



"So it becomes upon the United States 
government not only to free our people 
from danger and injury in that country, but 
take such action as will teach these miser- 
able barbarians they cannot deal with the 
peoples of the nations of the world in the 
manner in which they have been doing 
without suffering condign punishment 
therefor." 



TENTH MARRIAGE ANNIVERSARY. 



I HERE are numerous wedding anni- 
If versaries, of course — if the man and 
wife live together the necessary length of 
time — and it is customary for the friends of 
the happy couple to gather and, after offer- 
ing the usual congratulations, sit down to 
a feast. Toasts are offered and after drink- 
ing the same, short after-dinner speeches 
are made. At a banquet given in honor of 
the tenth anniversary of the marriage of a 
popular society man and his wife, the latter 
being. a member of the "swell" set, a guest 
arose, and, after he had emptied his glass, 
to the host and hostess, said: 

"Mr. and Mrs. , and Ladies and 

Gentlemen : — This is, or at least it should be, 
the most notable, memorable and never-to- 
be-forgotten milestone on the matrimonial 
highway. Tin ! Never was so expressive 
a word incorporated into any language. If 
you have the tin you are all right; if you 
have it not, you can't even meet the alimony 
payments as they come due. 

"I say alimony payments. Yes, that's 
what I said. When poverty comes in at the 
door, love flies out of the window, it is said. 
This isn't exactly straight, for the reason 
that if you are poor you are apt to have 
neither windows nor doors — but that cuts 
no figure in this particular case. Tin is one 
of the most necessary things in the world, 
and when a man and wife arrive at the tenth 



mile along the track in the race of life there 
is ground for suspicion that they will re- 
main in harness together until the fiftieth 
anniversary comes gliding along. 

" 'None but the brave deserve the fair,' 
the poet sang, and then the practical joker 
stepped up and added the line, 'And none 
but the brave can live with 'em.' All the 
same, if it takes courage in a man to marry, 
how about the woman? I know men pretty 
well, and I have no hesitancy in making the 
announcement that I would rather live with 
the average woman than the average man ; 
therefore, if a wife can get along with a 
husband ten years, the probabilities are that 
she will not become a grass widow of her 
own volition. 

"Ten years is a long time to bear with the 
caprices, the follies, the foibles and the 
vagaries of a man, but women — and I say 
it with a heart overflowing with respect, def- 
erence and admiration — are possessed of 
more patience and forbearance than Job 
ever scheduled in his returns to the tax as- 
sessors. Patience was a profession with 
Job, as I understand it; or at least a good 
part of his stock in trade, and he had the 
comforting thought that he was famous 
because of his afflictions and had the sym- 
pathy of all who read the newspapers. 

"However, patience is the best thing for 
married men to cultivate," 



ORIGIN OF WORLD FAVORITES. 

Gems in Song and Verse Which Have Stirred the Hearts of Nations. 

^* o5* (^ 



©FTTIMES the circumstances of the 
writing of a song or poem is of as 
much interest as the production itself. We 
all have "Favorites," and thousands of 
readers go into ecstasies over this and that 
one, when, if they but knew the history 
that was no doubt attached to it, how much 
more highly it would be prized by them ! 
It is our aim in this department to bring 
out the double value that is attached to 
many of the best productions of the day 
by giving the circumstances of their writ- 



ing. And further, in making our selections 
it has been our aim to give the most popu- 
lar and interesting, and at the same time 
to bring out as near as possible the different 
thoughts of sentiment. As a matter of en- 
tertainment and historic facts, we com- 
mend this department to the careful perusal 
of our readers, and can assure them that 
an exceedingly interesting knowledge can 
be gained by becoming familiar with the 
following pages. 



"AMERICA." 



EV. DR. SAMUEL FRANCIS 
i^ SMITH'S "America," which is a 
paraphrase of the English song, "God Save 
the Queen" (or King), while not original, 
contains a lofty thought. In 1833 a friend 



gave Dr. Smith some books of songs used 
in schools in Germany, in one of which he 
found the air, said to have been written by 
Henry Carey, an Englishman. Words to 
this music are sung in Russia, also. 






Bta 



1- J^ycoun-try! tis of thee, Sweet land of lib - er-ty, Of thee I sing 'Land where my 
J. My na-tivecoun-try, thee, Land of the no-blefree, Thy name I love; I love thy 
6. Let mu - sic swell the breeze, And ring from all the trees Sweet freedom's song: Let mor - tal 
4. Uur lath-ers God! to thee,Au-thor of lib -er-ty, To thee we sing : Long may our 
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fath-ersdied! Landof the pil-grims' pride! From every mountainside Let freedom ring I 
rocks andnlls.Thy woods and templed hills: My heart with rap-ture thrills Like that a- bove. 
tongues awake : Let all thatbreathe partake; Let rocks their si-lence break,The sound prolong, 
land be bnght With freedom's ho - ly light; Pro- tect us by thy might, Great God our King! 









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97 



98 



ORIGIN OF WORLD FAVORITES. 



"PRAISE GOD FROM WHOM ALL BLESSINGS FLOW." 



IEW people in singing this grand dox- 
ology think other than that it was 
written as a single verse, and for the sole 
purpose for which it is now used. Sung 
in all climes and by all civilized nations, 
suited to every Christian denomination, to 
all times and places, and so dear to the 
Church universal, it must live and be sung 
as long as man remains to tell of our God, 
from whom our blessings come. 

The four lines were originally written as 
the closing verse of a morning and even- 
ing hymn, of some thirteen stanzas each, 
to be used in devotional exercises by the 
students in Winchester College, and in 1697 
the hymn became a part of a work entitled 
"A Manual of Prayer." 

The author, Thomas Ken, was born in 
1637, at Berkhamstead, England, and re- 
ceived his education at Oxford. His love 
for holy music, and taking in early life to 
the ministry, gave him opportunity to aid 
in organizing musical societies during the 
reign of Cromwell, who had ordered the 
organists and choristers silenced. 

In 1679 he was made chaplain to Mary, 
Princess of Orange, and one year later to 
Charles II. His duty was always per- 
formed in a God-fearing manner, and his 
reproofs to the King's waywardness were 
given most pointedly. It is recorded that 



Charles would often good-naturedly say, 
"I must go and hear Ken tell me my fauhs." 
To show how fearlessly he did his duty, 
we quote from Macaulay the following: 
"Before he became a bishop he had main- 
tained the honor of his gown by refusing, 
when the court was at Winchester, to let 
Nell Gwynn, the King's mistress, lodge at 
the house he occupied as prebendary. The 
King had sense enough to respect so manly 
a spirit, and of all the prelates he liked 
Ken best." 

On the ascension of William III., Prince 
of Orange^, he was relieved of his bishopric, 
having stubbornly resisted the re-establish- 
ment of popery. Reduced to poverty, he 
accepted the hospitality of Lord Viscount 
Weymouth, remaining at his home, Long- 
leat, near Frome, in Somersetshire, for 
some twenty years. Under Queen Anne he 
was offered the bishopric again, but re- 
fused, wishing retirement for the rest of 
his life. In March, 1710, he died, and was 
buried in the church-yard of Frome. 

Says Lord Macaulay, "The moral char- 
acter of Ken, when impartially reviewed, 
sustains a comparison with any in eccle- 
siastical history and seems to approach, as 
near as any human infirmity permits, to the 
ideal of Christian perfection." 



'HOLD THE FORT." 



fHIS song was suggested by an inci- 
dent of the Civil war during Sher- 
man's march from Chattanooga, Tenn., to 
Atlanta, Ga. The entire march was almost 
one continuous battle, and the 140 miles 
was in fact one long-drawn-out battle- 
ground. About five miles north of Marietta 
stands Kenesaw Mountain, surrounded by 
neighboring peaks, and the battle of Kene- 



saw was one of the most famous engage- 
ments of the late war. It was during this 
battle the incident occurred that made sub- 
ject for the song. 

In signaling from one of the adjacent 
hill-tops, one of Sherman's generals mani- 
fested an inclination to surrender because 
of the superior forces of the enemy, and he 
signaled his weakness to General Sher- 




BE IT EVER SO HUMBLE, NO HOME SHOULD BE WITHOUT BOOKS. 



lOO 



ORIGIN OF WORLD FAVORITES. 



man's headquarters. General Sherman 
determined at once to reinforce him and 
hold the position, and signaled him back, 
"Hold the fort, for I am coming." 

P. P. Bliss, the song-writer, who was 
killed in the awful railroad disaster at 
Ashtabula in 1876, wrote the song: 

Ho ! my comrades, see the signal 

Waving in the sky! 
Reinforcements now^ appearing, 

Victory is nigh! 

Chorus — 

"Hold the fort, for I am coming," 
Jesus signals still, 



Wave the answer back to heaven, 
"By Thy grace we will." 

See the mighty hosts advancing, 

Satan leading on; 
Mighty men around us falling. 

Courage almost gone. 

See the glorious banner waving, 

Hear the bugle blow, 
In our Leader's name we'll triumph. 

Over every foe. 

Fierce and long the battle rages, 

But our Help is near ; 
Onward comes our Great Commander, 

Cheer, my comrades, cheer I 



"THAT SWEET STORY OF OLD. 



NE of the most beautiful of Sunday | 
School hymns is: 



I think when I read that sweet story of old. 

When Jesus dwelt here among men. 
How He called little children as lambs to 
His fold, 
I should like to have been with Him 
then. 

I wish that His hand had been put on my 
head, 
And that I had been placed on His knee, 
And that I might have seen His kind look 
when He said, 
"Let the little ones come unto me." 

Yet still to His footstool in prayer I may 
go. 

And ask for a share in His love ; 
And if I thus earnestly seek Him below, 

I shall hear Him and see Him above. 

In that beautiful place He is gone to pre- 
pare 



For all who are washed and forgiven; 
And many dear children are gathering 
there. 
For of such is the kingdom of heaven. 

But thousands and thousands who wander 
and fall. 
Never heard of that heavenly home ; 
I should like them to know there is room, 
for them all. 
And that Jesus has bid them to come. 

I long for that blessed and glorious time — 
The fairest, the brightest, the best — 

When the dear little children of every clime 
Shall crowd to His arms and be blessed. 

These are the words in full, and just as 
originally written. The author, Mrs. 
Jemima Luke, composed them while riding 
in a stage-coach on her way to a neighbor- 
ing village school. It was her desire, as 
she was much interested in mission work, 
to write a song for this school that would 
enthuse a Christian interest. Inspired by 



ORIGIN OF WORLD FAVORITES. 



lor 



this desire, she wrote the hymn under the 
circumstances named, and many thousand 
happy hearts have attested to the efficacy 



of the motive for which it was written. In 
some collections it has been erroneously 
attributed to Mrs. Judson. 



DARLING NELLIE GRAY. 



IVERYEODY knows this beautiful 
and ever popular song, but few know 
of its origin or the circumstances under 
which it was written. Ben R. Hamby 
wrote the song "away back in the fifties." 
At that time he was teacher in a little acad- 
emy near Seven Mile, Butler County, Ohio. 
On his way from Cincinnati home, in read- 
ing the columns of the Cincinnati Com- 
mercial, his eye fell upon an account of a 
beautiful quadroon girl who had been torn 
away from her slave lover and carried to 
the Southern markets to be sold. The 
quadroon's name was Nellie Gray. The ac- 
count worked Hamby up to such an extent 
that he utilized the incident as the subject 
of the song, the words of which were almost 
completed by the time he reached home. 
After a slight remodelling and a few finish- 
ing touches, it was sent to a Chicago firm 
for their approval. He never received any 
returns from it, and the first knowledge 
that he had of the words having become in 
the least popular, or even been used, was 
on a visit soon after to Columbus, Ohio. 
On calling on a young lady acquaintance in 
that city, he requested her to sing some- 
thing for him. She complied by saying she 



would sing him a sweet little song she had 
just received, and she remarked that, by a 
strange coincidence, it had been written by 
a person with the same name as his. She 
thereupon, much to his surprise, sang with 
a trained voice "Nellie Gray." It is need- 
less to say that the song was famous, and 
it made for its publishers some $30,000. It 
is said Hamby never received a dollar from 
the publishers. The most that he ever got 
was six printed copies of the song. 

Hamby came from rather a musical fam- 
ily. His father was compiler of the United 
Brothers' Hymn Book. Hamby himself 
composed a number of other songs, but 
none that ever reached the popularity of 
"Nellie Gray." He died a few years after 
the close of the war in obscurity and pov- 
erty. The fact that he was the Hamby who 
wrote the song was known to but a few in- 
timate friends. His remains lie to-day in 
the little village cemetery at Westerville, 
Ohio, the place of his birth. His grave has 
no mark, and the stranger might search for 
it in vain unless it was pointed out to him. 
Nature has covered it with green grass and 
lovely flowers. The song he left is the only 
monument to his memory. 



"WATCHMAN, TELL US OF THE NIGHT." 



j(|lY Sir John Bowring, who was born 
'®* 1792, at Exeter. He was from early 
youth much advanced, past his years, in 
learning and perceptibility. Under the in- 
fluence of early Christian training he was 
a devout worshiper, and carried with ev- 
ery action through life a faith that by 
Christian consistency only could great ends 
be attained. His life was most successful. 



and positions of honor were accorded him. 
From a member of Parliament he was sent 
as Consul to Canton, and later became 
Governor of Hong Kong. 

The hymn was written in his thirty-third 
year, and to a degree expresses his Chris- 
tian watchfulness. He seemed ever to be 
perceiving and anticipating the glories of 
God. 



ORIGIN OF WORLD FAVORITES. 



103 



GUIDE ME, O THOU GREAT JEHOVAH." 



I HIS was one of a collection of hymns 
written by its author, William Wil- 
liams, at the suggestion of Lady Hunting- 
ton. She had read one of his books, and 
was so much moved by it that she at once 
solicited him to write a collection of hymns. 
In this collection was this much used hymn. 
The collection was used in Mr. Whitefield's 
Orphans' Home in this country, and the 
hymn was very familiar in America before 
it became popular in the country of its au- 
thor. Williams, who is often termed "the 
Watts of Wales," was born in 1717, and 



died in 1791. He early gave his life to 
the ministry, and at the age of twenty- 
three received deacon's orders. He was 
eloquent in his sermons, and was very suc- 
cessful in bringing his countrymen to 
Christ. His talent extended to the produc- 
tion of hymns, and with grand effect. By 
these, and by his ministerial work, he be- 
came widely and popularly known. Oli- 
vers, a brother Welchman, supplied the 
music to "Guide me, O Thou Great Je- 
hovah," and thus it is often taken that he 
was the author. 






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2. - pen thou the crys - tal foun - tain Whence the healing streams do flow: Let the 

3. When T tread the verge of Jor-dan, Bid my anx - ious fears sub -side; Death of 

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weak, but thou art might -y; Hold me with thyx)Ower -ful hand; Bread of heav - en, 
fier - y, cloud - y pil - iar Lead me all my jour - ney thro'; Strong De -liver -er, 
death! and hell's de-s true -tion! Land me safe on Canaan's side; Songs of prais - es 









bread of heav - en. Teed me till I want no more. Bread of heav - en, bread of 
strong De - live - rer, Be. thou still my Strength and Shield, Strong De-live -rer, strong De 
songs of prais -es, I will ev - er give to thee. Songs of prais - es, songs of 

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heav - en. Feed rne till I want no more, Feed me till I want no more, 
liver - er, Be thou still my Strength and Shield, Be thou still my Strength and Shield, 
prais - es, I will ev - er give to thee, I will ev - er give to thee. 




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ORIGIN OF WORLD FAVORITES. 



"IN THE SWEET BY-AND-BY." 




(^JfR. BENNETT and Mr. Webster, a 
music writer, were intimate friends. 
The latter was subject to despondency. One 
day he came in to where his friend Ben- 
nett was at business — while in one of his 
melancholy moods — 

"What is the matter now?" Bennett said, 
noticing his sad countenance. 

"No matter," said Webster; "it will be 
right by-and-by." 

"Yes, that sweet by-and-by," said Ben- 
nett. "Would not that sentiment make a 
good hymn, Webster?" 

"Maybe it would," replied Webster in- 
dififerently. 



Turning to the desk — Bennett wrote the 
three verses to the hymn, — and handed 
them to Webster. When he read them his 
whole demeanor changed. Stepping to his 
desk, he began to write the notes. Having 
finished them, he requested his violin, and 
played the melody. It was not over thirty 
minutes from the first thoughts of the 
hymn before the two friends, and two oth- 
ers who had come in, in the meantime, were 
singing all the parts together. 

A bystander, who had been attracted by 
the music, and listened in tearful silence, 
remarked, "That hymn is immortal." It is 
now sung in every land under the sun. 



"I WANT TO BE AN ANGEL." 




r^J/«)AS written on April 19th, 1845, by 
Mrs. Sydney P. Gill, who at that 
time was in Philadelphia, Pa. The expres- 
sion, "I want to be an angel," was just then 
made widely popular by an article that was 
going the rounds of the Sunday-school 
papers, written by Dr. Irenaeus Prime. It 
was as follows: "A child sat in the door 
of a cottage at the close of a summer Sab- 
bath. The twilight was fading, and as the 
shades of evening darkened, one after an- 
other of the stars stood in the sky and 
looked down on the child in his thoughtful 
mood. He was looking up at the stars and 
counting them as they came, till there were 
too many to be counted, and his eyes wan- 
dered all over the heavens, watching the 
bright worlds above. They seemed just 
like 'holes in the floor of heaven to let the 
glory through,' but he knew better. Yet 
he loved "to look up there, and was so ab- 
sorbed, that his mother called to him and 
asked : 



" 'My son, what are you thinking of?' 

"He started as if suddenly aroused from 
sleep, and answered : 

" 'I was thinking ' 

" 'Yes,' said his mother, 'I know you 
were thinking, but what were you thinking 
about ?' 

'■ 'Oh,' said he, and his little eyes spar- 
kled with the thought, 'I want to be an 
angel.' 

" 'And why, my son, would you be an 
angel ?' 

" 'Heaven is up there, is it not, mother, 
and there the angels live and love God, 
and are happy? I do wish I was good, and 
God would take me up there, and let me 
wait on Him forever.' 

"The mother called him to her knee, and 
he leaned on her bosom and wept. She 
wept, too, and smoothed the soft hair of 
his head as he stood there, and kissed his 
forehead, and then told him that if he would 
give his heart to God, now while he was 



To6 



ORIGIN OF WORLD FAVORITES. 



young, the Saviour would forgive all his 
sins and take him up to heaven when he 
died, and he would then be with God for- 
ever. 

"The mother took the child to his cham- 
ber, and soon he was asleep, dreaming per- 
haps of angels and heaven. A few months 
afterward sickness was on him, and the 
light of that cottage, the joy of that moth- 
er's heart, went out. He breathed his last 



in her arms, and as he took her parting kiss, 
he whispered in her ear: 

" T am going to be an angel.' " 
Mrs. Gill was teacher in Sunday-school 
of an infant class. The subject was "An- 
gels," and during the lesson hour one of 
the little ones repeated the popular expres- 
sion, "I want to be an angel." Soon after 
this same child died, and the hymn was 
composed and sung at its funeral. 



"FROM GREENLAND'S ICY MOUNTAINS.' 



BEAUTIFUL description of this we 
\{cj\ take verbatim from a volume en- 
titled, "Story of Hymns," published by the 
American Tract Society, as given in an 
American religious magazine, which is as 
follows : 

"It does not necessarily take a lifetime to 
accomplish immortality. A brave act done 
in a moment, a courageous word spoken at' 
the fitting time, a few lines which can be 
written on a sheet of note-paper, may give 
one a deathless name. Such was the case 
with Reginald Heber^ known far and wide, 
wherever the Christian religion has pene- 
trated, by his unequalled missionary hymn, 
'From Greenland's Icy Mountains,' so dear 
to every heart, so certain to live, while 
a benighted man remains to whom Christ's 
story has not yet been wafted. It was writ- 
ten in a parlor, with conversation going on 
around its author, and in a few minutes' 
time. 

"Reginald Heber, then thirty-five years 
old, was visiting his father-in-law. Dr. 
Shipley, in Wrexham, having left his own 
charge at Hodnet a short time in order to 
deliver some lectures in Dr. Shipley's 
church. Half a dozen friends were gath- 
ered in the little rectory parlor one Satur- 
day afternoon, when Dr. Shipley turned to 
Heber, knowing the ease with which he 



composed, and asked him if he could not 
write some missionary lines for his church 
to sing the next morning, as he was going 
to preach upon the subject of Missions. 
This was not very long notice to give to a 
man to achieve the distinguishing work of 
his life, and in the few moments which 
followed, Heber builded better than he 
knew. Retiring to a corner of the room, 
he wrote three verses of his hymn, and re- 
turning read them to his companions, only 
altering the one word, savage, to heathen, 
in the second verse. 

" 'There, there,' said Dr. Shipley, 'that 
will do very well.' But Heber, replying 
that the sense was not quite complete, re- 
tired for a few moments, and then returned 
with the glorious bugle-blast of the fourth 
verse : 

Waft, waft, ye winds. His story, 

And you, ye waters, roll, 
Till like a sea of glory 

It spreads from pole to pole; 
Till o'er our ransomed nature 

The Lamb, for sinners slain, 
Redeemer, King, Creator, 

In bliss returns to reign. Amen. 

"It was printed that evening, and sung 
the next morning by the people of Wrex- 
ham church." 



ORIGIN OF WORLD FAVORITES. 



107 



From Greenland's icy mountains, 

From India's coral strand, 
Where Afric's sunny fountains 

Roll down their golden sand. 
From many an ancient river. 

From many a palmy plain, 
They call us to deliver 

Their land from error's chain. 

What though the spicy breezes 

Blow soft o'er Java's isle. 
Though every prospect pleases, 

And only man is vile ; 
In vam, with lavish kindness, 

The gifts of God are strewn ; 
The heathen, in his blindness, 

Bows down to wood and stone. 



Can we, whose souls are lighted 

By wisdom from on high. 
Can we to man benighted 

The lamp of life deny? 
Salvation! O salvation! 

The joyful sound proclaim, 
Till earth 's remotest nation 

Has learned Messiah's name. 

Waft, waft, ye winds. His story, 

And you, ye waters, roll. 
Till, like a sea of glory. 

It spreads from pole to pole ; 
Till o'er our ransomed nature 

The Lamb, for sinners slain, 
Redeemer, King, Creator, 

In bliss returns to reign. 



"NEARER, MY GOD, TO THEE." 



|NE of the most popular and widely 
known hymns of this age, and one 
that touches a chord of sympathy in every 
heart, is 

"Nearer, my God, to Thee." 

It has followed the march of Christianity 
into heathen lands, and has been translated 
into many tongues. 

Benjamin Flower, an English author and 
editor of some note, had two daughters, 
Eliza and Sarah. Sarah, the youngest, was 
born 1805, but was soon left an orphan by 
the death of a refined and cultured mother. 
The attachment that naturally came to the 
girls for each other, on being bereaved of 
their mother, was indeed great. It was 
only to be expected, though, as they both 
took largely of the refined and sentimental 
feelings of their mother. 

Eliza, the elder, gave her time and talent 
to the composition of music and musical 
attainments. Says a critic : "Eliza Flower 
attained a higher rank in musical composi- 



tion than before her time had been reached 
by any of her sex." 

Her sister Sarah, at the age of twenty- 
nine, married William Bridges Adams : but 
the cares of married life in nowise retarded 
her life's work, that of composing poetry. 
In 1841 she had published a dramatic poem 
entitled "Vivia Perpetua," in which she 
brings out the trials, sufferings, and faith 
of the early martyrs. 

The hymn "Nearer, my God, to Thee," 
was furnished Charles Fox and published 
by him in 1841 in his "Hymns and An- 
thems." At that time no particular atten- 
tion was given it, but gradually it attained 
a zenith of popularity from which it must 
ever shine. 

Her sister died in 1847 of consumption. 
During her sickness Mrs. Adams's care for 
her was unceasing. Their attachment in 
life had been so great that she never recov- 
ered from the loss of her sister, and gradu- 
ally declining, she also died two years later ; 
but even to death's door her praise to God 
burst forth in song. 



T08 



ORIGIN OF WORLD FAVORITES. 



As all that was mortal of Mrs. Sarah 
Flower Adams was laid to rest, the follow- 
ing song of hers, expressing much the same 
sentiment of "Nearer, my God, to Thee," 
was sung: 

He sendeth sun, He sendeth shower ; 
Alike they're needful to the flower ; 
And joys and tears alike are sent 
To give the soul fit nourishment. 



As comes to me or cloud or sun, 
Father, Thy will, not mine, be done. 

Oh, ne'er will I at life repine, 
Enough that Thou hast made it mine ; 
Where falls the shadow cold in death, 
I yet will sing with fearless breath ; 
As comes to me or shade or sun, 
Father, Thy will, not mine, be done. 



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Nearer, my God, to thee, Nearer to thee! Ev'ntho'itbe 
Tho' like the wanderer, The sun gone down, Darkness be o 



a cross 
ver me, 
There let the way appear, Steps unto heaven; All that thou sendest me, 
Then, with my waking thoughts Bright with thy praise. Out of my ston-y griefs 






that raiseth me! 

My rest a stone, 

In mercy given; 

Bethel I'll raise: 




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1 



Still all my song shall be, Nearer,my God, to thee, Nearer.my God, to thee, Nearer to 
Yet in my dreams I'd be Nearer.my God, to th e,Nearer,my God, to thee, Nearer to 
An - gels to beck - on me Nearer.my God. to thee, Nearer, my God, to thee, Nearer to 
So by my woes to be Nearer, my God, to thee, Nearer,my God, to thee, Nearer to 



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thee, 
thee, 
thee, 
thee. 



"SUWANEE RIVER." 



[^r^l^UITE interesting is the history of the 
darky melody, "Suwanee River," 
from the fact that the song was written 
and the name fitted to it afterwards. It is 
not often that an author finds his subject 
after his article has been penned, but in this 
case it was so. We give in a conversation 
between two friends the circumstances 
which gave it its name. 

"Did you ever hear how 'Suwanee River' 
was written?" 

"Do not think I ever did." 

"Well, Steph Foster— Stephen C. Foster 
was his full name — was in the zenith of his 



popularity when he wrote the words," said 
my friend to me. "He had written the 
song in the frame house on Sandusky 
street, in Allegheny, but he couldn't find 
the name of a river that suited him. Finally 
he went over to the office of his brother, 
Morrison Foster, sat down on his desk, and 
said : 'Morrison, I've got a new darky song 
here, and it's complete except the name of 
the river. I want a Southern river with 
only two or three syllables. Give me one, 
won't you?' 

"Morrison suggested several, but they 
didn't suit. Then he took down an atlas, 







WE SIMPLY SAY, "GOOD-BYE." 









-^ 






no 



ORIGIN OF WORLD FAVORITES. 



ran his eye over a map of the Southern 
States for a few minutes and finally said: 
'Here's a river in Florida by the name of 
Suwanee ; how will that do ?' 

" 'That's it, that's it,' exclaimed the song- 
writer, jumping from his desk. 'It's just 
what I want,' and picking up a pen, he in- 



serted the name of the river that has since 
become the title of one of the sweetest and 
most pathetic of melodies. I believe that 
Stephen C. Foster never thought very much 
of the piece himself until after it had taken 
its place among the popular songs of the 
century," 



THE STAR-SPANGLED BANNER." 



N 1814, when the British fleet was at 
the mouth of the Potomac River, and 
intended to attack Baltimore, Mr. Key and 
Mr. Skinner were sent in a vessel, with a 
flag of truce, to obtain the release of some 
prisoners the English had taken in their 
expedition against Washington. They did 
not succeed, and were told that they would 
be detained till after the attack had been 
made on Baltimore. Accordingly, they 
went in their own vessel, strongly guarded, 
with the British fleet as it sailed up the 
Patapsco : and when they came within sight 
of Ft. McHenry, a short distance below the 
city, they could see the American flag dis- 
tinctly flying on the ramparts. As the day 
closed in the bombardment of the fort com- 
menced, and Mr. Key and Mr. Skinner re- 
mained on deck all night, watching with 
deep anxiety every shell that was fired. 
While the bombardment continued, it was 
sufficient proof that the fort had not sur- 
rendered. It suddenly ceased some time 
before day ; but as they had no communica- 
tion with any of the enemy's ships, they 
did not know whether the fort had surren- 
dered, or the attack upon it had been aban- 
doned. They paced the deck the rest of 
the night in painful suspense, watching 
with intense anxiety for the return of day. 
At length the light came and they saw that 
"our flag was still there," and soon they 
were informed that the attack had failed. 
In the fervor of the moment, Mr. Key took 
an old letter from his pocket, and on its 



back wrote the most of this celebrated song, 
finishing it as soon as he reached Balti- 
more. He showed it to his friend Judge 
Nicholson, who was so pleased with it that 
he placed it at once in the hands of the 
printer, and in an hour after, it was all over 
the city, and hailed with enthusiasm, and 
took its place at once as a national song. 

Oh ! say, can you see by the dawn's early 
light, 
What so proudly we hail'd at the twi- 
light's last gleaming, 
Whose broad stripes and bright stars 
through the perilous fight, 
O'er the ramparts we watch'd were so 
gallantly streaming? 
And the rocket's red glare, and bombs 
bursting in air. 
Gave proof thro' the night that our flag 
was still there ! 
Oh ! say, does the star-spangled banner yet 
wave 
O'er the land of the free and the home of 
the brave? 



On the shore dimly seen thro' the mist of 
the deep, 
Where the foe's haughty host in dread 
silence reposes, 
What is that which the breeze o'er the tow- 
ering steep, 
As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half 
discloses ? 



ORIGIN OF WORLD FAVORITES. 



in 



Now it catches the gleam of the morning's 
first beam, 
In full glory reflected, now shines in the 
stream ; 
'Tis the star-spangled banner. Oh ! long 

may it wave 
O'er the land of the free and the home of 
the brave. 



And where is that band who so vauntingly 
swore, 
''Mid the havoc of v/ar and the battle's 
confusion, 
A home and a country they'd leave us no 
more? 
Their blood has wash'd out their foul 
footsteps' pollution; 
No refuge could save the hireling and slave, 
From the terror of flight, or the gloom of 
the grave. 



And the star-spangled banner in triumph 
doth wave 
O'er the land of the free and the home of 
the brave. 

Oh ! thus be it ever, when freemen shall 
stand. 
Between their loved home and the war's 
desolation ; 
Blest with victory and peace, may the 
Heaven-rescued land 
Praise the power that made and pre- 
served us a nation. 
Then conquer we must, when our cause it 
is just. 
And this be our motto, 'Tn God is our 
trust." 
x\nd the star-spangled banner in triumph 
shall wave 
O'er the land of the free and the home 
of the brave. 



A VERITABLE POEM OF POEMS. 



I^HE following poem of poems, com- 
posed from a line of different poems, 
is quite interesting. It is said the author 
spent one year in hunting up and fitting 
together the lines, and quite an instructive 
and interesting evening entertainment can 
be had by reading the poem and letting 
each in the social gathering guess who is 
the author of the different lines. Then 
refer to the key given below and see how 
many are right. 

A VERITABLE POEM OF POEMS. 

I — Why all this toil for triumphs of an 

hour? 
2 — Life's a short summer, man a flower. 
3-— By turns we catch the vital breath, 

and die, 
4— The cradle and the tomb, alas! so 

nigh. 
5 — To be is better far than not to be, 



6 — 'Though all man's life may seem a 

tragedy ; 
7 — But light cares speak when mighty 

cares are dumb, 
8 — The bottom is but shallow whence 

they come. 
9 — Your fate is but the common fate of 

all; 

10 — Unmingled joys here to no man befall. 
1 1 — Nature to each allots his proper sphere, 
12 — Fortune makes folly her peculiar care ; 
13 — Custom does often reason overrule, 
14 — And throw a cruel sunshine on a fool.- 
15 — Live well, how long or short, permit 
to Heaven, 

16 — They who forgive most shall be most 

forgiven. 
17 — Sin may be clasped so close we camiot 

see its face — 
18 — Vile intercourse where virtue has not 

placed ; 




O 

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ORIGIN OF WORLD FAVORITKa 



113 



19 — Then keep each passion down, however 
dear; 

20 — Thou pendulum betwixt a smile and 
tear; 

21 — Her sensual snares, let faithless pleas- 
ure lay 

22 — With craft and skill to ruin and betray ; 

23 — Soar not too high to fall, but stoop to 
rise. 

24 — We masters grow of all that we de- 
spise. 

25 — Oh, then renounce that impious self- 
esteem ; 

26 — Riches have wings, and grandeur is a 
dream. 

27 — Think not ambition wise because 'tis 
brave, 

28 — The path of glory leads but to the 
grave. 

29 — What is ambition? 'Tis a glorious 
cheat, 

30 — Only destructive to the brave and 
great. 

31 — What's all the gaudy glitter of a 
crown ? 

32 — The way to bliss lies not on beds of 
down. 



33 — How long we live, not yearSj but ac- 
tions tell ; 

34 — That man lives twice who lives the 
first life well. 

35 — Make, then, while yet ye may, your 
God your friend, 

2,6 — Whom Christians worship, yet not 
comprehend. 

37 — The trust that's given guard, and to 
yourself be just; 

38 — For, live we how we can, yet die we 
must. 

I, Young; 2, Doctor Johnson; 3, Pope; 
4, Prior; 5, Sewell ; 6, Spenser; 7, Daniel; 
8, Sir Walter Raleigh ; 9, Longfellow ; 10, 
Southwell; 11, Congreve; 12 Churchill; 13, 
Rochester; 14, Armstrong; 15, Milton; 16, 
Baily; 17, Trench; 18, Somerville; 19, 
Thomson; 20, Byron; 21, Smollett; 22, 
Crabbe; 23, Massinger; 24, Crowley; 25, 
Beattie ; 26, Cowper ; 27, Sir Walter Daven- 
ant; 28, Gray; 29, Willis; 30, Addison; 31, 
Dryden; 32, Francis Ouarles; 33, Watkins; 
34, Herrick; 35, William Mason; 36, Hill; 
37, Dana ; 38, Shakespeare. 



"HOME, SWEET HOME." 



I HE English claim this most touching 
[^ of songs, although it was written by 
John Howard Payne, an American, for the 
reason that it was first sung in England 
in an operatic melodrama, "Clari, the Maid 
of Milan," written by Payne. It was 
brought out in London because the latter 
was regarded as a better field than New 
York. However, it was short-lived. 

"This song," says Dr. Charles MacKay, 
"has done more than statesmanship or leg- 
islation to keep alive in the hearts of the 
people the virtues that flourish at the fire- 
side and to recall to its hallowed circle the 
wanderers who stray from it." 



Strange as it may seem, the author of 
"Home, Sweet Home" never had a home. 
He wrote the lines while serving the United 
States as a Consul abroad. The air is Sici- 
lian. No poet ever received a more enviable 
compliment than that paid to John Howard 
Payne by Jenny Lind on his last visit to 
his native land. It was in the great Na- 
tional Hall of the City of Washington 
where the most distinguished audience that 
had ever been seen in the capital of the re- 
public was assembled. The matchless 
singer entranced the vast throng with her 
most exquisite melodies — "Casta Diva," the 
"Flute Song," the "Bird Song" and the 



114 



ORIGIN OF WORLD FAVORITES. 



"Greeting to America." But the great fea- 
ture of the occasion seemed to be an act 
of inspiration. The singer suddenly turned 
her face to the part of the auditorium 
where Payne was sitting and sang "Home, 
Sweet Home" with such pathos and power 
that a whirlwind of excitement and enthu- 



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siasm swept through the vast audience. 
Webster himself almost lost his self-con- 
trol, and one might readily imagine that 
Payne thrilled with rapture at this unex- 
pected and magnificent rendition of his 
own immortal lyric. 



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1. 'Mid pleas - ures and pal - a - ces though we may roam, Be it ev - er so 

2. An ex - ile from home, splendor daz - zles in vain; O give me my 






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hum - ble, there's no place like home! A charm from the skies seems to 
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hal - low us there, Which, seek thro' the world, is ne'er met with else-where. 
come at my call: Give me these, and the peace of mind, dear - er than all. 






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Home, home, sweet, sweet home! There's no -place like home! There's no place like home! 

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THE KINGS OF ENGLAND. 



S a matter of historical fact, given in 
such language and form that will aid 
any one in remembering the order of the 
Kings of England, we give the following 
familiar rhyme: 



THE KINGS OF ENGLAND, 

First William the Norman, 

Then William, his son, 
Henry, Stephen, and Henry; 



ORIGIN OF WORLD FAVORITES. 



1 15 



Then Richard and John, 
Next Henry the Third, 

Edwards, one, two, and three. 
And again after Richard 

Three Henrys we see. 
Two Edwards, third Richard, 

If rightly I guess. 
Two Henrys, sixth Edward, 

Queen Mary, Queen Bess. 
Then Jamie, the Scotchman, 

Then Charles, whom they slew. 



Yet received after Cromwell 

Another Charles, too. 
Next James the Second 

Ascended the throne, 
Then good William and Mary 

Together came on, 
Till Anne, Georges four. 

And fourth William all past, 
God sent Queen Victoria. 

May she long be the last. 



"JESUS, MY ALL TO HEAVEN IS GONE." 



OW often a life of sin is followed 
1 1 until the soul is burdened with re- 
morse so great it can bear no more ! The 
good in the man has been drowned so long 
by the evil that a reaction must come. It 
asserts itself — brings the man to a full real- 
ization of the sinful past, and the awful fu- 
ture that must come if he continues in his 
downward course. Such was the early life 
of John Cennick, the author of "Jesus, my 
all to Heaven has gone," a hymn fully ex- 
pressing the resolves of a redeemed soul. 

Cennick was a bright youth, of warm so- 
cial nature, which made him many friends ; 
his keen perception made him familiar with 
the vices of his day. He was fond of cards, 
novels, and theatres, and he was classed as 
a smart but profitless boy. But he became 
restless and unhappy with all this seeming 
enjoyment, daily the desultory life became 
less attractive, and his conscience contin- 
ually brought before him the ruin he was 
bringing to both body and soul. He says, 
"While walking hastily in Cheapside, the 
hand of the Lord touched me, and I at once 
felt an uncommon fear and dejection." For 
some months he strove with his own 
strength to retrieve the past. He knew 
that he must die and suffer the penalty of a 
sinner, unless redeemed. He could not find 
the peace of mind he sought until one day 



he came across the words, "I am thy sal- 
vation." It showed him the way to the 
comfort he had been asking. Believing and 
receiving Christ as the only means of par- 
doning power, he at once found peace of 
mind and a hope for a heavenly future. 
His happiness was great, and he continu- 
ally felt the presence of the Lord. 

Being of a poetical turn, he at once put 
in verse his experience and thus originated 
the beautiful hymn 

Jesus, my all to heaven is gone. 

He died in 1755, being about thirty-five. 
His last years were spent in Christian work, 
and he made a strenuous effort with his 
former companions to come to Christ. 

The following verse, written by him a 
short time before his death, will show the 
peace with which he anticipated the end 
of earth: 

O Lamb, I languish 

Till the day I see 
When Thou shalt say 

Come up and be with me: 
Twice seven years 

Have I Thy servant been, 
Now let me end 

My service and my sin. 



ii6 



ORIGIN OF WORLD FAVORITES. 



"ROCK OF AGES." 



j^HAT soul-inspiring sentiment has 
Ifm f been awakened by these beautiful 
lines ! What Christian comfort and heav- 
enly hope it has brought to the army of 
weary warriors "battling for the right !" 
Thousands of Christians have been con- 
soled in their dymg hour by the redeeming 
love of Christ these lines impart. The place 
it holds in the affections of the Church is 
possibly greater than that of any other 
hymn. Its popularity is surely not sur- 
passed by any. The author, Augustus 
Montague Toplady, was born at Farnham 
in 1740. His father, ere many years of his 
life had passed, died, and young Augustus 
was brought up under the Christian train- 
mg of his mother, receiving his education 
at Westminster school. Of the experience 
that led to his conversion, which took place 
at Codymain, an obscure place in Ireland, 
in his sixteenth year, he having by chance 
heard an impressive sermon delivered in a 
barn by an illiterate layman, he thus speaks 
in his diary : "That sweet text, 'Ye who 



sometimes were afar off, are made nigh by 
the blood of Christ,' was particularly de- 
lightful and refreshing to my soul : under 
the ministry of that dear messenger, I was, 
I trust, brought nigh by the blood of Christ 
in August, 1756." 

Taking up the ministry of the Church of 
England, he worked and wrote with self- 
exhausting zeal. His only failing was 
heated language and dictatorial stand in de- 
bate. In 1775, owing to failing health, his 
physicians sent him to London. Here he 
entered a new field in the pastorage of the 
French Calvinist Reformed Church. 

In the Gospel Magazine of March, 1776, 
he shows the enormity of the debt of sin 
by numerical calculation, and demonstrates 
how Christ has cancelled this great debt 
and redeemed the soul. Afire with these 
thoughts, he composed the beautiful lines, 
just as given below. As sung to-day, it is 
somewhat changed and transposed from 
the original : 



:^q=:^:3=z=j=^:| 



-A- 






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1. Rock of A - g^es-cleft for me! Let me hide my-self in thee; Let the wa - ter and the blood, 

2. Not the la - bor of my hands Can ful- fill the law's demands; Could my zeal no respite know, 

3. Nothing in my hand I bring; Sim-ply to thy cross I cling; Naked, come to thee for dress, 

4. While 1 draw this fleeting breath, When my eyelids close in death, When I soar to worlds unknown, 



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From thy wounded side that flowed, Be of sin the double cure; Cleanse me from its guiltand pow'r. 
Could my tears for - ev - er flow, All for sin could not a-tor.e, Thou must save, and thou alone. 
Help- less, look to thee for grace; Yile I to the fountain fly, Wash me. Sav - ior, or I die. 



See thee on thy judgment-throne, Rock of A 



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ORIGIN OF WORLD FAVORITES. 



**THE TWO ANGELS." 



RESIDES the sweet sentiment con- 
1m# tained in these verses, there is also 
connected with the poem a touching and in- 
teresting history. Mr. Longfellow and Mr. 
Lowell were near neighbors in Cambridge. 
In a social as well as a literary sense, they 
were the warmest of friends, and the closest 
relation existed between the two families. 
On the night of Mrs. Lowell's death a 
child was born to Mr. Longfellow, and this 
gave subject to the beautiful lines. The 
first angel represents the child of Mr. Long- 
fellow, and the second one spoken of as 
leaving the house, referred to the spirit of 
Mrs. Lowell. The friend referred to is 



Mr. Lowell. As a reply to this poem Mr. 
Lowell wrote "After the Burial." 

Two angels, one of Life and one of Death, 

Passed o'er our village as the morning 

broke, 

The dawn was on their faces, and beneath, 

. The sombre houses hearsed with plumes 

of smoke. 

Their attitude and aspect were the same, 
Alike their features and their robes of 
white ; 
But one was crowned with amaranth, as 
with flame. 
And one with asphodels, like flakes of 
light. 



"LORD, DISMISS US WITH THY BLESSING." 



lANKS in popularity with "All Hail 
the power of Jesus' Name" and 
"Praise God, from whom all blessings 
flow :" like them it is used by many denom- 
inations and in many climes. Being so uni- 
versal in public service, it seems to grow in 
use and favor, and though its author, Wal- 
ter Shirley, wrote but few hymns, this one, 
which has proved enduring, will give him 
renown for ages to come. 

There is no note of any special event that 
brought forth the song, but it is the result 
of Christian thought and impulse. Shirley's 
hymns are of a high rank, and give the 
author a place among the first hymn- 
writers. 

His life, which began 1725 and closed six- 
ty-one years later, was devoted to Christian 
work, yet full of severe trials. After ob- 
taining great success in the ministry, he 
was forced to endure the remorse of a pub- 
lic execution of his brother. Earl Ferrars, 
who had lived a licentious life and shot his 



steward because he showed favor to Lady 
Ferrars in her case against the earl's favor- 
ite mistress. 

From the execution Sir Walter took up 
the duties of life a broken-hearted man. 
He expressed his grief in the beautiful 
lines : 

Peace, troubled soul, whose plaintive moan 
Hath taught these rocks the notes of 
woe; 

Cease thy complaint — suppress thy groan, 
And let thy tears forget to flow ; 

Behold the precious balm is found. 

To lull thy pain, to heal thy wound. 

Come, freely come, by sin oppressed, 
Unburden here thy weighty load ; 

Here find thy refuge and thy rest, 
And trust the mercy of thy God : 

Thy God's thy Saviour — glorious word! 

Forever love and praise the Lord. 



ORIGIN OF WORLD FAVORITES. 



no 



In his last years, unable to attend his 
parish duties, he often had his neighbors 
come in, and he preached to them from his 



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chair. The end came in 1786, and he was 
freed from earthly trouble, for which his 
soul had longed. 



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1. Lord, dis - miss us with tliy bless-ing Fill our hearts with joy and peace 
Let us each, thy love pos - sess-iug, Tri - umph in re -deem-ing grace 

2. Thanks we give, and ad - or - a - tion, For thy gos - pel's joy - ful sound 
May the fruits of thy sal - va - tion, In our hearts and lives a - bound 

3. So, when - e'er the sig - nal's giv - en Us from earth to call a - way 
Borne on an ■ gels' wings to heav - en, Glad the sum - mons to o - bev 






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Oh, 
May 
May 



re - fresh us, Oh, re - fresh us, Travel - ing thro' this wil - der - ness. 
thy pres - ence, May thy pres - ence, "With us ev - er - more be found, 
we ev - er, May we ev - er, Eeign with Christ in end - less day. 



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SHERIDAN'S RIDE. 



IHOMAS BUCHANAN READ has 
made this famous ride immortal in 
verse, yet few are acquainted with a very 
dramatic episode that was really the means 
of bringing on the battle which led to that 
gallant ride of twenty miles. Miss Rebecca 
L. Wright was at that time a young Quaker 
school-teacher in Winchester, Va. She and 
her mother were loyal, but a sister took 
sides with the Lost Cause. General Sheri- 
dan, knowing the intelligence and good 
judgment of Miss Wright, determined to 
communicate with her as to the strength 
and position of the enemy. A regular scout 
was sent to Millwood as near the lines as 
was expedient, and then the General's mes- 
sage — a tiny note wrapped in tinfoil — was 
given a trusted negro, who was to carry it 
in his mouth, and to swallow it if stopped. 
He reached Miss Wright's school-room at 



noon. She was reluctant to give any infor- 
mation, and would not until she had con- 
sulted her mother. Her first thought was 
that it w'as a trick, and she would be be- 
trayed into the hands of the rebels, who 
then had possession of the place, but the 
negro was so honest and straightforward 
that she promised an answer at 3 P. M. 
She was able to give the desired informa- 
tion most intelligently, from the fact that 
two evenings previous a rebel officer had 
spent a few hours at their house, and many 
were the questions she had innocently asked 
and received truthful answers as to the 
Confederate forces, position, etc. 

At daybreak, Monday, September 19th, 
1864, Winchester was awakened by the roar 
of great guns, and Early's command was, 
as Sheridan himself expressed it, sent 
"whirling through Winchester," with 4,500 



ORIGIN OF WORLD FAVORITES. 



121 



lost, 2,500 of whom were prisoners. Sher- 
idan pushed the enemy to Fisher's Hill, and 
dislodging them from that formidable posi- 
tion, sent them scattered into the gaps of 
the Blue Ridge. Completely devastating 
the country, he returned and made a stand 
at a point about twenty miles south of Win- 
chester. Here he left his army in command 
of General W'right, and, October 15th, left 
for Washington, in answer to a call from 
the Secretary of War, to consult on impor- 
tant manoeuvres. Lee, however, could not 
make up his mind to give up the Shenan- 
doah Valley, and sent Early back, rein- 
forced by 10,000 men, to retrieve what he 
had lost. Sheridan left Washington by 
train on the i8th of October, and on the 
morning of the 19th was riding leisurely 
out of Winchester when he heard the dis- 
tinct booming of cannon, little dreaming 
that his men were being beaten by his old 
foe. Early. Soon he met a number of strag- 
glers from his army, and saw at once the 
appalling marks of defeat and rout. Gath- 
ering the reins of his coal-black charger he 
gave him the word and the spur and began 
that famous ride, shouting to the stragglers 
he met : 

"Face the other way, boys ! Face the 
other way ! We are going back." And 
they did. 

The word went from one to another and 
the scattered forces were soon reformed 
and rushed to meet the enemy. They knew 
they were being led to victory, and a victory 
most complete it was. Early was com- 
pletely routed, and the dead and captured 
left him but a mere handful of his proud 
band of the early morning. 

General Sheridan presented Miss Wright 
with a beautiful watch in 1867, as a token 
of friendship and a reward for the valuable 
information given him. The government, 
through the solicitation of Generals Grant 
and Sheridan, gave her a position in the 



Treasury Department at Washington. She 
is still at Washington, and is known as Mrs. 
Rebecca Wright Monsal. 

Just after the famous ride it was appro- 
priately illustrated by the Harpers, of New 
York. Mr. Read, admiring the illustra- 
tion, remarked fo a friend that there was a 
poem in that picture. In a few days a pub- 
lic meeting was held in New York City to 
express the public's thanks to General 
Sheridan for his meritorious work for the 
Union. Mr. Read was present. He took 
for the subject of his remarks and read a 
poem based on the illustration above men- 
tioned. It -is said he locked himself up in 
his room the afternoon before the meeting 
and wrote the verses, which he allowed no 
one to read, and gave them first to the 
world from his own lips. 

The gathering was a most patriotic one, 
and received the poem with breathless ap- 
preciation. 

Up from the South at the break of day, 
Bringing to Winchester fresh dismay, 
The affrighted air with a shudder bore. 
Like a herald in haste to the chieftain's 

door, 
The terrible grumble and rumble and roar, 
Telling the battle was on once more, 
And Sheridan twenty miles away. 

And wider still those billows of war 
Thundered along the horizon's bar, 
And louder yet into Winchester rolled 
The roar of that red sea uncontrolled. 
Making the blood of the listener cold 
As he thought of the stake in that fierv 

fray. 
And Sheridan twenty miles away. 

But there is a road from Winchester town, 
A good, broad highway leading down ; 
And there, through the flash of the morn- 
ing light, 



122 



ORIGIN OF WORLD FAVORITES. 



A steed as black as the steeds of night, 
Was seen to pass as with eagle flight — 
As if he knew the terrible need, 
He stretched away with his utmost speed : 
Hill rose and fell — but his heart was gay, 
With Sheridan fifteen miles away. 

Still sprung from those swift hoofs, thun- 

d'ring south, 
The dust like the smoke from the cannon's 

mouth, 
Or the trail of a comet sweeping faster and 

faster. 
Foreboding to traitors the doom of disaster ; 
The heart of the steed and the heart of the 

master 
Were beating like prisoners assaulting their 

walls, 
Impatient to be where the battle-field calls : 
Every nerve of the charger was strained to 

full play. 
With Sheridan only ten miles away. 

Under his spurning feet, the road 
Like an arrowy Alpine river flowed. 
And the landscape sped away behind 
Like an ocean flying before the wind ; 
And the steed, like a bark fed with furnace 

ire, 
Swept on, with his wild eye full of fire ; 
But lo ! he is nearing his heart's desire — 
He is snufling the smoke of the roaring 

fray. 
With Sheridan only five miles away. 



The first that the General saw were the 

groups 
Of stragglers, and then the retreating 

troops ; 
What was done — what to do — a glance told 

him both, 
Then striking his spurs with a terrible oath, 
He dashed down the line 'mid a storm of 

huzzas, 
And the waves of retreat checked its course 

there, because 
The sight of the master compelled it to 

pause. 
With foam and with dust the black charger 

was gray. 
By the flash of his eye, and his red nostrils' 

play. 
He seemed to the whole great army to say : 
"I have brought you Sheridan all the way 
From Winchester down to save the day!" 



Hurrah, hurrah for Sheridan ! 

Hurrah, hurrah for horse and man ! 

And when their statues are placed on high, 

Under the dome of the Union sky, 

The American soldier's Temple of Fame, 

There with the glorious General's name. 

Be it said with letters both bold and bright, 

"Here is the steed that saved the day 

By carrying Sheridan into the fight 

From Winchester — twenty miles away!" 



"FATHER, WHATE'ER OF EARTHLY BLISS." 



|NE of the most popular of Baptist 
hymn-writers was "Mrs. Steele," the 
daughter of William Steele, a Baptist min- 
ister of Hampshire, England. The term 
"Mrs." was given her not from the fact 
that she was ever married, but as a mark 
of honor to her literary attainments. It is 
an English custom to thus address maiden 
ladies as a maik of respect, who have at- 



tained prominence and are entitled to es- 
pecial respect. 

Mrs. Steele was an example of those pa- 
tient sufiferers, who teach their more for- 
tunate companions lessons of thankfulness 
every day. An accident in her childhood 
made her an invalid for life, yet she made 
herself beloved by all, and was engaged 
to a gentleman of excellent attainments. 



ORIGIN OF WORLD FAVORITES. 



123 



On the eve of their marriage he was 
drowned. Weighted with this double sor- 
row, she found comfort in a daily exercise 
of Christian acts, and the hours spent in 
hymn-writing. After her father's death, 
being left entirely alone, the pleasures of 
the world were naught to her. Yet she bore 



all her sufferings with the true Christian 
resignation, and her death came as a pleas- 
ant call to join friends gone before, and en- 
joy a heavenly home her life-work had 
earned. Her patient, devoted, and forbear- 
ing and Christian life she seems to have so 
fully expressed in her beautiful hymn : 



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1. Fa - ther! what-e'er of earth - ly bliss Thy sov - 'reign will de 

2. "Give me a calm, a thank -ful heart, From ev - 'ry mur-mur 

3. '"Let the sweet hope that thou art mine My life_ and death at 

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Ac - cept - ed at 
The bless-ings of 



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thy throne of grace, Let this 

thy grace im - part, And make 

Thy presence through my jour - ney shine, And crown 



0-Sr- 

pe - ti - tion 
me live to 
my jour-ney's 



rise: — 
thee." 
end." 



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THE MAPLE LEAF FOREVER. 



N October, 1867, two men were walking 
in a Toronto garden, a nursery. The 
dying maple leaves were falling from the 
trees, to be trodden under foot in spite of 
all their glory of crimson and gold color- 
ing. A leaf fluttered down to the coat 
sleeve of one of the men, and was detained 
by the roughness of the cloth of which the 
garment was made. He tried to brush it 
off, and thought he had succeeded, but as 
he was leaving he discovered that it was 
still hanging there, and its tenacity im- 
pressed itself upon his mind. He remarked 
the occurrence to his companion, who was 
bidding him "good afternoon," and the 



latter said: "You have been writing verses, 
why not write a song about the maple 
leaf?" This was about four o'clock in the 
day, and in less than two hours afterwards 
the poem was written that has made the 
name of Alexander Muir a household word 
in every part of Canada. Next day he was 
playing with his children and repeating 
the words of the poem aloud. His wife 
suggested that he set the words to music, 
so that he might sing them; for he had a 
pleasant sonorous voice. He thereupon 
tried several tunes, but could find nothing 
to suit him. 'T'U have to compose one 
myself," he said, and in a few hours after- 



124 



ORIGIN OF WORLD FAVORITES. 



wards the beautiful tune that has gladdened 
the hearts and refreshed the souls of thou- 
sands of Canadian patriots, that has reached 
the ears of thousands of English-speaking- 
people in the United States and Great 
Britain, was on paper. The following is 
the poem as corrected by the author: 

THE MAPLE LEAF FOREVER. 

In days of yore the hero Wolfe, 

Britain's glory did maintain, 
And planted firm Britannia's flag 

On Canada's fair domain. 
Here may it wave, our boast, our pride, 

And, joined in love together. 
The Thistle, Shamrock, Rose entwine. 

The Maple Leaf forever! 

Chorus. 

The Maple Leaf, our emblem dear, 

The Maple Leaf forever! 
God save our Queen, and heaven bless 

The Maple Leaf forever! 

On many hard-fought battle-fields, 

Our brave fathers, side by side, 
For freedom, homes and loved ones dear 

Firmly stood, and nobly died; 
And those dear rights which they main- 
tained, 

We swear to yield them never! 
We'll rally round the Union Jack, 

The Maple Leaf forever! 

In autumn time^, our emblem dear. 

Dons its tints of crimson hue; 
Our blood would dye a deeper red, 

Shed, dear Canada, for you! 
Ere sacred right our fathers won 

To foemen we deliver, 
We'll fighting die — our battle-cry, 

"The Maple Leaf forever!" 

God bless our loved Canadian homes, 
Our Dominion's vast domain; 



May plenty ever be our lot, 

And peace hold an endless reign; 

Our Union, bound by ties of love. 
That discord cannot sever. 

And flourish green, o'er Freedom's home, 
The Maple Leaf forever! 

On Merry England's far-famed land. 

May kind heaven sweetly smile; 
God bless old Scotland evermore. 

And Ireland's emerald isle! 
Then swell the song, both loud and long. 

Till rocks and forests quiver; 
God save our Queen, and heaven bless, 

The Maple Leaf forever. 

Soon after its composition Mr. Muir 
sang the song for a party of friends, among 
whom was the late Edward Lawson, a gen- 
tleman then prominent in the musical cir- 
cles of Ontario's Capital city. Mr. Lawson 
recognized its merit, and insisted that it 
should be published. He accompanied 
Mr. Muir one day to the Guardian office, 
where arrangements were made for publi- 
cation. The first edition of one thousand 
copies was struck ofT and placed on sale. 
The cost of this edition was $30, and this 
Mr. Muir paid out of his own pocket, 
although he had not expected to be com- 
pelled to do so. The total receipts from 
the sale of this edition — that found their 
way to Mr. Muir's pocket — were $4. Thus 
his profits were $26 less than nothing. 
Year by year the song became more popu- 
lar. Music dealers found it increasing in 
demand, and one enterprising publishing 
house thought it worth securing — mark 
the word — and of their accord copyrighted 
it, and issued another edition. Since then 
the sale has been enormous and the profits 
considerable, but not a penny of the latter 
has found its way to Mr, Muir. Such has 
been its financial success for the authoi. 



126 



ORIGIN OF WORLD FAVORITES. 



ORIGIN OF FAMILIAR SONGS. 



IHE Campbells are Comin' is a very old 
Scottish air. Copies of it date back 
to 1620. 

One Bumper at Parting is one of the best 
known of Moore's convivial songs. The 
tune was called Moll Roe in the Morning. 

Come, Landlord, Fill the Flowing Bowl 
dates from the time of Shakespeare. It 
appears in one of Fletcher's plays. 

Cheer, Boys, Cheer was the work of 
Charles Mackay, the music being by Henry 
Russell. It was the outcome of an even- 
ing of conviviality in 1843. 

Drink to Me Only with Thine Eyes is 
from a poem entitled The Forest, by Ben 
Jonson. The air is an adaptation from one 
of Mozart's opera melodies. 

Allan Water was written by Matthew 
Gregory Lewis, better known in literature 
as Monk Lewis, whose weird tales were 
the fashion when Scott was young. 

What Are the Wild Waves Saying? a 
duet that was once immensely popular, was 
suggested to Dr. Joseph Edwards Carpen- 
ter by the conversation in Dombey and 
Son. 

Rule, Brittania is usually credited to 
James Thompson. It first appeared in a 
play entitled Alfred, by Thompson and Mal- 
let, in 1740. The air was by Dr. Thomas 
Arne. 

The Wearing of the Green exists in sev- 
eral forms and versions. The best-known 
one was written by Dion Boucicault, the 
dramatist. It is sung by Shaun the Post in 
Arrah-na-Pogue. 

Scots Wha Hae was by Burns. It was 
written on a dark day while the author was 
on a journey. The tune is Hey Tuttie Tat- 
tle, an old march that is said by tradition 
to have animated Bruce's men at Bannock- 
burn. 

A Life on the Ocean Wave was the work 



of Epes Sargent, an American poet, the 
idea being suggested to him during a walk 
on the Battery, in New York, one day when 
a high wind was blowing in from the sea. 
It was set to music by Henry Russell. 

The Last Rose of Summer, one of Patti's 
favorite songs, was the work of Thomas 
Moore. The melody is a very ancient Irish 
tune, formerly known as the Groves of 
Blarney. This tune has been found in col- 
lections of Irish music at least 200 years 
old. 

The Blue Bells of Scotland was the work 
of Annie McVicar, afterwards Mrs. Grant, 
the daughter of a Scottish officer in the 
British army. The melody was long be- 
lieved to be Scottish, but is now known to 
be of English origin, being an old English 
folk-song. 

Kathleen Mavourneen was written by 
Mrs. Crawford, an Irish lady, whose songs 
ninety years ago were in high repute. The 
music was by Crouch, an eccentric genius, 
who in his old age and poverty begged his 
way into a concert given by Titiens that he 
might hear his own composition fitly sung. 

Love's Young Dream, one of Moore's 
best, was set by him to an Irish tune called 
The Old Woman. Moore heard the tune 
from a blind fiddler, wrote it down, and, 
discerning its beauty, determined that it 
should have better words than the non- 
sensical verses to which it was sung by the 
Irish peasantry. 

I'll Hang My Harp on a Willow Tree 
has attached to it a bit of royal romance. 
It was written by a young nobleman who 
became deeply enamored of Queen Victoria 
a year or so before she ascended the Eng- 
lish throne, which event destroyed his hopes 
of winning her hand. The wortls first ap- 
peared in an English magazine, and were 
set to music by Wellington Guernsey. 



ORIGIN OF WORLD FAVORITES. 



127 



Auld Lang Syne is of uncertain origin, 
there being several versions of this deserv- 
edly popular song. One of the best is by 
Burns, but only the second and third stanzas 
are by this poet, the remainder being from 



the pen of Ramsay. The song is of uncertain 
antiquity; one version is dated 1716, and 
another is said to date from the sixteenth 
centurv. 



IN PRAISE OF MUSIC. 




USIC is the language spoken by an- 
gels. — Longfellow. 
That which is too vast and beautiful to 
be displayed before man, the gods suggest 
through music. — Louis Lombard. 

Music is the child of prayer, the com- 
panion of religion. — Chateaubriand. 

Music loosens a heart that care has 
bound. — Byrd. 

Music is love in search of a word. — Sid- 
ney Lanier. 

Music is the only sensual pleasure with- 
out vice. — Samuel Johnson. 

Emotion is the summit of existence, and 
music is the summit of emotion, the art 
pathway to God. — J. J. Munger. 

Wouldst thou know if a people be well 
governed, if its laws be good or bad? Ex- 
amine the music it practices. — Confucius. 

Music is as a shower-bath of the soul, 
washing away all that is impure. — Schopen- 
hauer. 

In music all hearts are revealed to us. — 
Shorthouse. 

There is something deep and good in mel- 
ody, for body and soul go strangely to- 
gether. — Carlyle. 

Music gives birth to aspiration. It makes 
a true man truer ; it makes a bad man bet- 
ter. — Upton. 

Words may lie — music cannot. — Frank 
Damrosch. 

My language is understood all over the 
world. — Haydn. 

Music is a thing of the soul; a rose- 



lipped shell that murmurs of the eternal 
sea ; a strange bird singing the songs of 
another shore. — J. G. Holland. 

What love is to man, music is to the arts 
and to mankind. — C. M. Von Weber. 

Music is the first, the simplest, the most 
effective of all instruments of moral in- 
struction. — Ruskin. 

Singing is all we know they do above. 
—Waller. 

Song brings of itself a cheerfulness that 
wakes the heart to joy. — Euripides. 

It is music's loftiest mission to shed light 
on the depths of the human heart. — Schu- 
mann. 

Music washes away from the soul the 
dust of everyday life. — Auerbach. 

Music is the only sensual qualifications 
which mankind may indulge in to excess 
witliout injury to their moral or religious 
feelings. — Addison. 

Music is to the mind as is air to the body. 
—Plato. 

Music is a higher manifestation than all 
wisdom and philosophy. — Beethoven. 

Music is the only perfect language of all 
the higher emotions. — J. G. Abbott. 

Music is the supreme language of the 
higher sensibilities, unequaled in all the 
realm of emotional speech. — E. E. Ayres. 

Oh, surely melody from heaven was sent 
to cheer the soul when tired with human 
strife, to soothe the wayward heart by sor- 
row rent, and soften down the rugged road 
of life. — Kirke White. 




HOME, SWEET HOME, WITH BOOKS. 



ORIGIN OF WORLD FAVORITES. 



129 



Lord, what music hast Thou provided for 
Thy saints in heaven, when thou affordest 
bad men such music on earth ? — Isaak Wal- 
ton. 

Music is God's best gift to man, the only 
art of heaven given to earth, the only art 
of earth we take to heaven. — Landon. 

I verily think, and am not ashamed to 
say, that, next to Divinity, no art is com- 
parable to music. — Martin Luther. 

Music is the only one of all the arts that 
does not corrupt the mind. — Montesquieu. 

Music is the wondrous perfection, the 
highest height of that expression, a reach 
so far above the daily level that only by 
transcending earthly capacity could we in- 
terpret its burden. — Charles G. Whiting. 

Were it not for music we might in these 
days say the beautiful is dead. — DTsraeli. 

Music was the first sound heard in the 
creation, when the morning stars sang to- 
gether. It was the first sound heard at the 
birth of Christ, when the angels sang to- 
gether above the plains of Bethlehem. It 
is the universal language, which appeals to 
the universal heart of mankind. — George P. 
Upton. 

We cannot imagine a complete education 
of man without m.usic. It is the gymnastic 
of the affections. In suitable connection 
with exercises, it is necessary to keep body 
and soul in health. — Jean Paul Richter. 

I think sometimes could I only have 



music on my own terms, could I live in a 
great city, and know where I could go 
whenever I wished the ablution and inunda- 
tion of musical waves, that were a bath and 
a medicine. — Emerson. 

That which music expresses is eternal and 
ideal. It does not give voice to the passion, 
the love, the longing of this or the other in- 
dividual, under these or the other circum- 
stances ; but to passion, love, longing itself. 
— Wagner. 

There is but one class of men who con- 
demn music, and those are fanatics ; and 
there is only one order of beings, according 
to Luther, who hate it, and those are devils. 
— Mower. 

O music, thou who bringest the receding 
waves of eternity nearer to the weary heart 
of man, as he stands upon the shore and 
longs to cross over, art thou the evening 
breeze of this life, or the morning air of the 
future? — Jean Paul Richter. 

It is in music, perhaps, that the soul most 
nearly attains the great end for which, when 
inspired by the poetic sentiment, it strug- 
gles — the creation of supernal beauty. It 
may be, indeed, that here this sublime end 
is now and then attained in fact. We are 
often made to feel, with a shivering delight, 
that from an earthly harp are stricken notes 
which cannot have been unfamiliar to the 
angels. — Edgar Allan Poe. 



MAXIMS FROM GOETHE, 



VERY beginning is pleasant. The 
threshold is the place of expectation. 
One must be something in order to do 
something. 

Go back into life, and take Holy Earnest- 
ness with you, for Holy Earnestness alone 
makes life eternity. 

Day and happiness and continuance are 
the lot of the livin,^. 



Words are good, but there is something 
better. The best cannot be explained by 
words. The spirit on which we act is the 
chief matter. 

The safest mode of acting is to employ 
ourselves with our nearest duty. 

Disinterested actions will earn the richest 
recompense. 



I30 



ORIGIN OP^ WORLD FAVORITES. 



Love renders impossibilities themselves 
possible. 

The web of life is woven of necessity and ' 
chance. 

What is important is to have a soul which 
loves truth, and receives it wherever it 
finds it. 

Great thoughts and a pure heart, that is 
what we have to pray God for. 

Art is long, life is short; judgment is 
difficult, opportunity fleeting. To act is 
easy — to think is difficult, and to act pursu- 
ant to one thought is troublesome. 
Let thy striving be with loving, 
Let thy life consist in deed. 

The truly great raises us above ourselves, 
and shines before us like a star. 

From near at hand one must not hope, 
but from afar. Let us trust in God; each 
one in himself, and in the other, and so it 
will be well. 

Love and courage are the spirit's wings 
wafting to lofty actions. 

A useless life is but an early death. 

The ground is hallowed where the good 
man treads. 

Talents are nurtured best in solitude, 

A character on life's tempestuous sea. 

The toil of life alone can tutor us life's 
gifts to prize. 

We always hope, and still in every case, 

'Tis better far to hope than to despair. 

Nature, whose mighty power hath fix'd 
the rock, gives to the wave its instability. 

It is ever true that he who does nothing 
for others, does nothing for himself. 

We are not little when circumstances 
trouble us, only when they overpower us. 

If your conscience is free, so are you. 

He alone is great and happy who fills his 
own station of independence, and has 
neither to command nor to obey. 

To repair is more difficult than to de- 
stroy. 

Fortune e^v?s courage. 



Malice seeks not reasons, but pretexts. 

Love is capable of much, but duty is of 
more. 

Plunge boldly into life — its depths disclose ! 
Each lives it, not to many is it known. 

What's done is past! What's past is 
done. 

Strong as is law, necessity is stronger. 
Good it seems to me 
In one's own day a stalwart man to be. 

The deed is everything, the fanie is 
naught. 

Rich interest bears the generous deed. 
Man's self is man ! Who v/ould be thron'd 

and crown'd. 
Of the high honor must be worthy found. 

Take courage ! Naught is lost as yet ; 

Patience unties the hardest knot ! 
Completion of the greatest work demands 
One guiding spirit for a thousand hands. 

Behavior is a mirror in which every one 
displa3^s his own image. 

Mediocrity has no greater consolation 
than in the thought that genius is not im- 
mortal. 

Difficulties increase the nearer we are to 
our end. 

Sowing is not so difficult as reaping. 

Every step is an end, and every step is a 
beginning. 

The heart alone makes our happiness. 

Misunderstandings and neglect occasion 
more mischief in this world than even mal- 
ice and wickedness. 

Man needs but little earth for enjoyment, 
and still less for his final repose. 

Happy the man who early learns the im- 
measurable distance between his wishes and 
his powers. 

Happy those whom fate protects and edu- 
cates according to his talents. 

What we agree with leaves us inactive, 
but contradiction makes us productive. 



ORIGIN OP^ WORLD FAVORITES. 



131 



MEANING OF NATIONAL NAMES. 



MULULAND is the land of the Zulus. 
Sumatra means the "happy land." 

Hayti m.eans "mountain country." 

Peru was named from the River Paro. 

The Transvaal is the country beyond the 
Vaal. 

Java is the Malay word for "land of nut- 
megs." 

Moldavia took its name from the River 
Moldau. 

Colombia was thus called in honor of Co- 
lumbus. 

Bolivia was thus called in honor of Simon 
Bolivar. 

Mexico is City of Mexitil, the Mexican 
god of war. 

Morocco has always been the "land of the 
Moors." 

Arabia was so called from its inhabitants, 
the Arabs. 

Canada is an Indian name — a "collection 
of huts." 

The word Borneo is of native origin, sig- 
nifying "the ^and." 

Costa Rica is a Spanish expression, sig- 
nifying "rich coast." 

Abyssinia was the land of the Abassins, 
or "mixed races." 

Nicaragua was thus named in honor of 
a chief named Nicaro. 

Corsica has a Phoenician name, meaning 
"wooded islands." 

Formosa is a Portuguese word signify- 
ing "beautiful country." 

Argentina has its name from the silvery 
reflection of its rivers. 

Finland is properly Fenland, "the land of 
the marshes." 

Uruguay was named from the river which 
flows through it. 

Bosnia is so called because the River 
Bosna flows throuo-h it. 



Ecuador means "equator," an allusion to 
its geographical position. 

Manitoba commemorates the Manitou or 
great spirit of the Indian. 

The Sahara is so named from the Arabic 
word signifying "desert." 

Egypt to the Hebrews and ever since was 
"the land of the oppression." 

The word Ceylon is of Sanskrit origin, 
signifying the "Island of Lions." 

Jutland was originally Juteland, or the 
land of the Jutes, a Gothic tribe. 

Zanzibar, more correctly Zanguebar, sig- 
nifies "the coast of the negroes." 

Jamaica has a name of Indian origin. It 
means "the country with springs." 

Greece was formerly Greecia. It had its 
name from that of its inhabitants. 

Bulgaria was formerly Volgaria, so called 
from the Volsci, who inhabited it. 

Algiers is so called from the Arabic 
words Al-Jezair, meaning a "peninsula." 

Guinea was named from a west African 
word, meaning "abounding in gold." 

Bohemia was so called because it was set- 
tled by the Boii, a tribe of Germans. 

The syllable "ia," as a termination to the 
name of a country, is of Celtic origin. 

Senegambia was so called because it lay- 
between the rivers Senegal and Gambia. 

Ontario is a corruption of the Indian 
word Onatac, "a village on a mountain." 

Asia had its name from the Sanskrit word 
Ashas, signifying "land of the dawn." 

Holland was so named by the Danes from 
a word signifying "marshy ground." 

Kafifraria was so called because it was 
inhabited by the Kaffirs, or "unbelievers." 

Portugal is a corruption of Porte Cale, 
the Roman name of the town of Oporto. 

Labrador was named by the Spaniards 
Terra Labrador, or the "cultivated land." 



13- 



ORIGIN OF WORLD FAVORITES. 



The Aleutian islands were named by the 
Russians. The word means "bald rocks." 

Tunis was the land of the Tunes, an Af- 
rican tribe inhabiting most of its territory. 

The Soudan is so called from the Arabic 
word Belad-ez-Suden, "the land of the 
blacks." 

Poland is a west European transposition 
of Land Pole, meaning "the land of plains." 

Madagascar was so called by the early 
explorers from the Malayasy or Malays who 
inhabited it. 

Greenland was so called because in sum- 
mer its hills were covered with a beautiful 
green moss. 

Italy was so called from the name of 
Italus, an early king who governed most of 
the peninsula. 

Montenegro has its name froni the color 
of its mountains. The word means "black 
mountain." 

Normandy was thus named because it 
was conquered and inhabited by the Norse- 
men or Normans. 

Brittany was so called from the fact that 
for many centuries it was claimed by the 
kings of Britain. 

Kurdestan was so called because the rul- 
ing tribe in its plains and mountains was 
that of the Kurds. 

Australia means "south," and the land 
now known by that name was formerly 
called New Holland. 

Belgium took its name from the Belgae, 
a warlike tribe which inhabited it before the 
time of Christ. 

Nova Scotia or New Scotland was named 
by Sir William Alexander, who received 
the grant in 1621. 

Japan is an Anglicized corruption of Ni- 
fong, the name of the principal island in 
the Japanese empire. 

Beloochistan was thus called because the 
Belooches were the dominant tribe in its 
river valleys and plains. 



Europe derived its name from the Greek 
language, the original word signifying 
"broad face of the earth." 

Norway is more properly Norea, meaning 
"North Isle." It is called by the natives 
the "North Kingdom." 

Paraguay was so called from the river 
Paro, meaning the "river of waters," an al- 
lusion to its numerous tributaries. 

Ethiopia was thus named by the Greeks, 
the original word signifying the land "of 
the burned or black faces." 

Sweden was so named because it was 
conquered and inhabited by the Swedi or 
Suedi, a tribe of valiant Goths. 

The Island of Tobago was named because 
of its resemblance in shape to the tobago or 
pipe used by the natives. 

England was so called because the dom- 
inant tribe of Saxons who conquered it were 
called the "Angles," or "Engles." 

Persia was so named by the Greeks from 
Persepolis, its capital ; the natives were 
"Parsa," modernly called "Parsees." 

Venezuela means "little Venice." The 
early explorers found the natives living in 
houses placed on piles in the marshes. 

Honduras was named by the Spanish in 
allusion to the depth of the water on its 
coast. The word means "deep water." 

Panama is a Caribbean word meaning 
"mud-fish," an allusion to the abundance of 
this variety on both sides of the isthmus. 

Afghanistan had its name from the sav- 
age tribe of Afghans, who, before the dawn 
of history, inhabited its mountain valleys. 

The Mosquito Coast received its name 
from the Spaniards in allusion to the aston- 
ishing abundance of this pestiferous insect. 

Denmark was at first Danmark, or the 
mark or limit set by Dan, a Scandinavian 
chief, who claimed jurisdiction over its 
territories. 

Circassia took its name from the 
Scherkes, a tribe of Tartar warriors who 




MRS. JULIA WARD HOWE.— While the memory of Mrs. Julia Ward Howe will 
always be closely linked with that grand and patriotic poem, "The Battle Hymn of the Re- 
public," this was not the only work which entitles her to be ranked with the famous women 
of America. She threw herself, heart and soul, into the advocacy of the rights of women, 
and was one of the founders of the New England Women's Club. Mrs. Howe was born 
in New York City on May 27, 1819, her father being one of the prominent men of the 
metropolis. 



134 



ORIGIN OF WORLD FAVORITES. 



established themselves between the Black 
and Caspian seas. 

Switzerland had its name from Schweitz, 
the name of the three forest cantons that led 
the successful insurrection against the Aus- 
trians. 

Brazil is a Portuguese word, signifying 
"a. live coal." It was given in allusion to 
the abundance of red dyewood found in the 
forests. 

The Canary islands have a Latin name, 
canis, "a dog." They were so named from 
the large and fierce mastiffs bred in the 
islands. 

Hindustan was so called from the river 
Hindus. The suffix stan is of Persian ori- 
gin, and is often found in the names of 
oriental countries. 

New Zealand commemorates the love of 
the Dutch explorers for their native coun- 
try. There is a district in Holland known 
as Sealand. 

The West Indies were so called by Co- 
lumbus, he believing them to be a portion 
of the Indies which he had reached by sail- 
ing towards the west. 

The name of Africa is derived from two 
Phcenician words, afer, "a black man," and 
ac, ''a country," signifying "the land of the 
black man." 

The word Papua is Portuguese for "friz- 
zled," and the district inhabited by the 
Papuans was named in honor of their much- 
decorated head-dresses. 

Guatemala, or Ouahtemali, means a "de- 
cayed log of wood." It is said that a wooden 
statue was honored by the aborigines as 
their principal deity. 

Russia was the "land of Russ," a Tartar 
tribe, that established a footing in the north- 
ern part of Europe soon after the beginning 
of the Christian era. 

Wales was thus named by the Anglo- 
Saxons, the word meaning "the land of for- 



eigners." The native name is Cambria, or 
"the country of the Kimri." 

Siberia had its name from the city Siber, 
the royal residence of Kuts, a Tartar prince, 
who established a wide dominion in the 
northern district of Asia. 

Saxony was so called because it was in- 
habited by the Saxons, who took their name 
from the Seax, a small battle-axe or knife 
which they bore in their girdles. 

Austria is a western rendering of Oester- 
reich, "the eastern kingdom." It is thus 
called to distinguish it from the Western 
empire founded by Charlemagne. 

Yucatan is an Indian expression said to 
signify "what do you say?" It is reported 
that all questions asked by the Spaniards 
w^ere answered with this expression. 

Palestine took its name from the Hebrew 
word signifying the "land of the strangers." 
It is called the Holy Land because it was the 
scene of the Saviour's life and labors. 

France was called by the Greeks Galla- 
tia ; by the Romans Gallia. The Franks, 
who conquered it, had their name from 
their favorite weapon, a very formidable 
javelin. 

Ireland was originally lerne or the 
"Western Isle." It was called the "Emer- 
ald Isle" because of the brilliant color of 
its verdure, which throughout the year is 
a lively green. 

Quebec has its name from an Algonquin 
word, signifying "take care of the rock." 
There was a dangerous reef in the river 
opposite the place where the city was after- 
wards built. 

Britain was known to the Phoenicians and 
was named by them Barat-Anak, "the land 
of tin." It is believed that the Phoenicians 
made trading expeditions to Britain as early 
as 1037 B. C. 

Pernambuco, when translated into Eng- 
lish, means "the mouth of hell." The allu- 
sion is to the tempestuous surf that contin- 



ORIGIN OF WORLD FAVORITES. 



135 



nally renders the neighborhood dangerous 
to the sailor. 

The Ladrone islands were named by Ma- 
gellan. The word is Portuguese for 
"thieves," and he bestowed this uncompli- 
mentary designation upon the islands be- 
cause of the dishonest character of their 
population. 

Hungary took its name from the Huns, 
who in 376 drove out the Goths and took 
possession of the country. The first ap- 
pearance of the Huns in history is in China 
in the year 300 B. C., when they were called 
Hiong-nu, signifying "giants." 

Turkey is properly Turkia, "the land of 
the Turks." It is called the Ottoman em- 
pire from the great sultan, Othman I. The 
term, sublime porte, as applied to the Turk- 
ish government, arose from the magnifi- 
cent gate to the imperial palace in Con- 
stantinople. 

Scotland was named from the Scoti, a 
tribe which had its birth in North Ireland. 
It was called by the natives Caledonia, "the 
little country of the Gaels," Gael properly 
signifying "a hidden rover." The Picts, 



who inhabited the lowlands, were "painted 
men." 

The name of Spain was bestowed by the 
Phoenicians from the word span, signifying 
"a rabbit," an allusion to the great num- 
bers of this animal on the Spanish plains. 
The country was formerly called Iberia, 
from the tribe of Ibert, who took their name 
from the river Ibro. 

America took its name from Amerigo 
Vespucci, who landed on the coast of South 
America the year after Columbus discov- 
ered the mainland further north. Amerigo 
is said to have made the first map of the 
new world. The name first appears in a 
book published by Waldseemuller, at St. 
Die, in Lorraine, in 1507. 

China took its name from Tsin, an em- 
peror who founded a dynasty 300 years 
before the Christian era. He was the mon- 
arch who built the great wall and accom- 
plished many other works of utility to the 
empire. It is also called the "Celestial Em- 
pire." because most of its early rulers 
claimed to be of heavenly descent. 



THE HUMAN COUNTENANCE AS SEEN BY DICKENS. 



VM IS villainous countenance was a reg- 

f§ ular stamped receipt for cruelty. — 
Oliver Twast, chapter 3. 

The yellow face, with its grotesque ac- 
tion, and the ferret eyes, with their keen, 
cold, wintry gaze. — -Dombey and Son. 

With a face that might have been carved 
out of lignum vitze for anything that ap- 
peared to the contrary. — Nicholas Nickleby, 
chapter 14. 

All his features seemed, with delight, to 
be going up into his forehead, and never 
coming back again any more. — Martin 
Chuzzlewit, chapter 13. 

"I told you not to bang the door so," re- 
peated Dumps, with an expression of coun- 



tenance like the knave of clubs in convul- 
sions. — Tales, chapter 2. 

Every knob in the captain's face turned 
white with astonishment and indignation ; 
even the red rim on his forehead faded, 
like a rainbow among the gathering clouds. 
— Dombey and Son. 

Mrs. Varden slightly raised her hands, 
shook her head, and looked at the ground, 
as though she saw straight through the 
globe, out at the other end, and into the 
immensity of space beyond. — Barnaby 
Rudge, chapter 27. 

At the word suspect, she turned her eyes 
momentarily upon her son, with a dark 
frown, as if the sculptor of old Egypt had 



136 



ORIGIN OF WORLD FAVORITES. 



indented it in the hard, granite face, to 
frown for ages. — Mrs. Clennam, in Little 
Dorrit, book I., chapter 5. 

Such a thoroughly Irish face, that it 
seemed as if he ought, as a matter of right 
and principle, to be in rags, and could have 
no sort of business to be looking cheerfully 
at anybody out of a whole suit of clothes. 
— Martin Chuzzlewit, chapter 17. 

He had that rather wild, strained, seared 
marking about the eyes, which may be ob- 
served in all free livers of his class, from 
the portrait of Jeffries downward, and 
which can be traced, under various dis- 
guises of Art, through the portaits of every 
drinking age. — Stryver, in Tale of Two 
Cities, chapter 5. 

With Mr. Gusher appeared Mr. Quale 
again. Mr. Gusher, being a flabby gentle- 
man with a moist surface, and eyes so much 
too small for his moon of a face that they 
seemed to have been originally made for 
somebody else, was not at first sight pre- 
possessing. — Bleak House, chapter 15. 

He was tall, thin and pale ; he always 
fancied he had a severe pain somewhere or 
other, and his face invariably wore a 
pinched, screwed-up expression, like a man 
who had suddenly got his feet in a tub of 
exceedingly hot water, against his will. — 
Tales, chapter i. 

Mr. Willet drew back from his guest's 
ear, and, without any visible alteration of 
features, chuckled thrice audibly. This 
nearest approach to a laugh in which he 
ever indulged (and that but seldom, and 
only on extreme occasions) never even 
curled his lip or effected the smallest change 
in — no, not so much as a slight wagging 
of — his great fat, double chin, which at 
these times, as at all others, remained a per- 
fect desert in the broad map of his face ; 
one changeless, dull, tremendous blank. — 
Barnaby Rudge, chapter 29. 

A gracious change had come over Ben- 



jamin from head to foot. He was much 
broader, much redder, much more cheer- 
ful, and much jollier in all respects. It 
seemed as if his face had been tied up in a 
knot before and was now untwisted and 
smoothed out. — Battle of Life, chapter 2. 
Tom, stopping in the street to look at 
him, Mr. Tapley for a moment presented 
to his view an utterly stolid and expres- 
sionless face — a perfect dead wall of coun- 
tenance. But opening window after win- 
dow in it with astonishing rapidity, and 
lighting them all up as if for a general il- 
lumination, he repeated. — Martin Chuzzle- 
wit, chapter 48. 

Squeers scowled at him with the worst 
and most malicious expression of which his 
face was capable — it was a face of remark- 
able capability, too, in that way— and shook 
his fist stealthily. "Coom, coom, school- 
maesther," said John, "dinnot make a fool 
o' thyself; for if I was to sheake mine — 
only once — thou'd fa' doon wi' the wind o' 
it." — Nicholas Nickleby, chapter 42. 

"By my soul, the countenance of that 
fellow, when he was a boy, was the black- 
est image of perfidity, cowardice and cru- 
elty ever set up as a scarecrow in a field 
of scoundrels. If I was to meet that most 
unparalleled despot in the streets to-morrow 
I would fell him like a rotten tree," — Bleak 
House, chapter 9. 

With that, and with an expression of face 
in which a great number of opposite in- 
gredients such as mischief, cunning, mal- 
ice, triumph, and patient expectation, were 
all mixed up together in a kind of physiog- 
nomical punch. Miss Miggs composed her- 
self to wait and listen, like some fair ogress 
who has set a trap and was watching for a 
nibble from a plump young traveler. — Miss 
Miggs, in Barnaby Rudge, chapter 9. 

A pale, puffy-faced, dark-haired person 
of 30, with big, dark eyes that wholly 
wanted luster, and a dissatisfied, doughy 



ORIGIN OF WORLD FAVORITES. 



m 



coniijlexion, that seemed to ask to be sent 
to the baker's. A gloomy person, with 
tang'led locks and a general air of having 
been reared under the shadow of that bale- 
ful tree of Java which has given shelter to 
more lies than the whole botanical king- 
dom. — Edwin Drood, chapter ii, 

Mr. Fang was a lean, long-backed, stifT- 
necked, middle-sized man, with no great 



quantity of hair, and what he had growing 
on the back and sides of his head. His 
face was stern and much flushed. If he 
were really not in the habit of drinking 
more than was exactly good for him he 
might have brought an action against his 
countenance for libel and have recovered 
heavy damages. — Oliver Twist, chap^-er ii. 



THE DESERTED COTTAGE: A PEASANT WOMAN'S STORY. 

(a CANADIAN STORY.) BY M BOUCHIER-SANDFORD. 



fTOL' you I'll gif you de story of de 
Anglisman dat liv' een dat leetl' 'ouse 
dat ees now desert'. Eet is so bacose dey 
say 'ees ghos' walk near. 

'E did come from Angland at dees French 
village een Canada, an' did live een dat 
littl' 'ouse wid 'eemself; an' 'e did use 
walk on de rock mos' every night, wid 'ees 
'ands behin' 'ees back ; but, sometime, 'e 
did shut dem togedder, or t'row dem 'igh 
up, like 'e try for t'row way somet'ing dat 
gif 'eem trobl'. 

Sometime 'e go for fish wid de men, an' 
dey call eem "captain" ; but 'e tell nodding 
'bout 'eemself. Sometime, w'en 'e play wid 
de leetl' boys an' tell story, 'e laugh wid 
dem ; den someding come back on 'ees min', 
an' 'e turn 'ees 'ead, and put 'ees 'ands on 
'ees eye. 

One day 'e fell on de rock an' 'urt 'ees leg. 
an' dey take 'eem at de 'ouse of Henri Cou- 
ture, w'ere 'e stay many week. Den Lucie 
Couture, she 'tink dere's no man more bet- 
tair as 'eem, an' it make Jean Picaud like 'e 
be mad w'en 'e see dat; and I'll t'ink wid 
myself dat captain ees de mos' 'andsomes' 
man I see, an' I'll say at 'eem, "W'y you 
not marrv wid Lucie w'en she grow so w'ite 
an' t'in for she love you?" 

Den 'e say, "Can I make 'er 'appy ?" 

An' I sav, "Eef vou don' marry wid 'er. 



she never marry wid somebody, an' 'er 'eart 
be break." 

Den he make de great sigh an' 'e say, 
"Dere so mosh meesairy I wan' for make 
somebody 'appy;" an' 'e don't t'ink I 'ear 
dat. 

After w'ile dey marry togedder, an' Lucie 
is glad, but de captain is not glad een 'ees 
'eart. 'E never go at de chursh only w'en 
de firs' baby arrife, an' dey all go at de 
chursh for baptize de chile, an' dey name 
'eem "Cyril," like de name of de captain. 
W'en de nex' baby arrife, dey give 'er de 
name "Aleece" : an' de captain 'old 'er een 
'ees arm and say, "Leetl' Aleece, my own 
Aleece." But I t'ink dey ought call 'er 
Lucie. 

When dey are marry togedder t'ree year, 
some people arrife ofif de boat, an' dey stop 
near de 'ouse w'ere Lucie sit wid de babies, 
and dey h'ax w'at name she call dem. An' 
she say, "Cyreel an' Aleece." Den one lady 
grow w'ite on de face an' appair like she 
will fall. But praysonly she take Cyreel 
een 'er arm, and 'old 'eem close, and" 'e pat 
'er face an' don' cry. 

Den de captain arrife roun' by back of de 
'ouse, an' dey don' see 'eem till 'e come face 
by face wid de lady, an' 'e cry out, like 'e 
don' know w'at 'e say. "Aleece! Aleece!" 
An' she say, like de word 'urt 'er t'roat, 



138 



ORIGIN OF WORLD FAVORITES. 



'Cyreel ! Cyreel !" Den one man dey call 
"Joseph" look mad, an' 'iss t'roiigh 'ees 
teet', "Cyreel Vintoun !" 

Den de captain say, "Aleece, don' believe 
dere's dat sin on my soul. Dere's no stain 
of de blood dere." 

Den dey spik so sof I'll not 'ear w'at dey 
say. But I go by de odder people an' I 
'ear dem say dat de captain is Cyreel Vin- 
toun, dat was tri' in de court for kill 'ees 
oncle, but dey can't prove dat, as 'e go free ; 
but dey people say 'e ought to be hang', so 
'e go 'way off Angland, an' nobody knows 
w'ere 'e live. An' de fader of Aleece won' 
let 'er be marry wid 'eem. An' Joseph wan' 
be marry wid 'er, but she don' like 'eem, 
an' w'en dey take de trip to Canada she don' 
kno' 'e be come wid dem till she is on de 
ship. 

I 'ear dat, bacose dey don' know I uner- 
stan' de Anglis so good ; an' Lucie, she 'ear 
dat too. 

But Joseph walk on de rock wid 'eemself. 
Den 'e turn roun' an' walk back fas' an' 
say, "I see de boat. We mus' go down by 
de wharf." Den dey go 'way ; but de cap- 
tain walk by de rock an' look on de water 
till de boat is no more seen. 

Dat night, w'en de captain spik kin' wid 
Lucie, she put out 'er 'ands an' say 'e mus' 
not spik wid 'er again; an' de red of de 
anger come on 'er face, an' she say dat every 
one tell dat she be marry wid de murderair. 
Den 'e 'ide 'ees face wid 'ees 'ands, an' de 
groan come. 

An' I say, "Lucie, don' believe 'e do dat. 
'E haf de kindes' 'eart. 'E never kill some- 
body." But Lucie say 'ard t'ings at 'eem, 
an' I know dat is bacose 'e spik wid Aleece, 
an' not bacose she believe 'e kill somebody. 

Den 'e say, "Do you wan' me leave you, 
Lucie?" An' she say she never wan' for see 
'eem some more. 

So 'e bring money at Xavier, my 'usban', 
for Lucie, an' 'e go 'way. Wen de weenter 



arrife, Lucie fret, an' wish 'e return ; but 'e 
don' come. 

Den Lucie say, "Susanne, I learn for read 
an' write before Cyreel come back." Den 
I know she be sorry dat w'en 'e use' try for 
teash 'er, she use' fall to sleep, or say, "I 
don' wan' be bodder wid dat." 

W'en de snow go, an' de bird sing, an' de 
tree be green, de boat stop on de wharf, an' 
de men carry somet'ing at de 'ouse by 
Lucie; an' we see de captain lie w'ite an' 
still, like 'e be dead. 

Den Lucie kneel an' cry, "I sorry, O I 
sorry, Cyreel ! Spik to me, Cyreel ! For- 
geefe me !" 

'E open 'ees eye, an' put 'ees 'and for take 
'ers, but 'e don' spik; an' praysonly we 
know 'e never spik again. 

After 'e die, de men tell 'ow dey see a 
boat wreck on de river, an' 'ow de captain 
say, "I am accuse for take de life of man ; 
I show dat I save de life." An' 'e save de 
men dat cling on de boat; but 'e 'urt 'ees 
back. 

An' de men see 'eem rub togedder 'ees 
'ands, like 'e wash dem, an' 'ear 'eem cry, 
"Aleece, Aleece, dere's no stain of blood ! 

Aleece, God gran' you know some day dat 

1 die innocent !" An' once 'e say, "Lucie ! 
poor leetl' Lucie ! God 'elp Lucie !" 

De nex' weenter two letter arrife for 
"Cyril Vintoun," an' de pries' read dem for 
Lucie. One letter is from Aleece, an' it 
tell dat dey all know now dat Cyreel is in- 
nocent, for de murderair haf confess. An' 
Aleece write, "Now, t'ank God, you may 
be 'appy!" An' I t'ink w'at pity it is she 
don't know 'e is dead. 

De oder letter tell dat de old aunt sen' 
money for take Cyreel back at Angland. 
Den de pries' write at Aleece an' at de old 
aunt dat de captain is dead. 

Lucie cry, an' she say, "Susanne, O Su- 
sanne, I weesh Cyreel know dat before 'e 
die !" 




Gu^wx.v.^ . ...^^.^ ..^...., ^. ^l„..„.l.„„ , L. - .1 ( 3rd, in 

1826, and was graduated from Harvard University v^fhen twenty years of age. He was 
known for his legal acumen and broad statesmanship, and the fact that he served twenty- 
eight years in the Senate is an indication of the regard the people of Massachusetts had 
of his ability. While a Republican he was of an independent way of thinking, this being 
shown when he put himself on record in opposition to the policy of President McKinley ni 
regard to the Philippine Islands. However, he staunchly supported the national admmis- 
tration in the Spanish-American War. He died in 1904. 




WILLIAM MAXAVELL EVARTS' name will ever be written among those who have 
achieved immortal distinction at the American bar and in diplomacy. He was Secretary of 
State in the Cabinet of President Hayes from 1877 to 1881, when President Garfield came in. 
Mr. Evarts was born in Boston, February 6, 1818, was graduated from Yale University in 
1837, and then went to New York City, where he entered into the practice of law. His 
powers of oratory were remarkable, his logic convincing and his skill in conducting cases 
involving vast interests all but unrivaled. 



ORIGIN OF WORLD FAVORITES. 



141 



An' I say, "I t'ink 'e know it now, Lucie." 
But she shake 'er 'ead an' cry. Den de 
money arrife for Lucie, an' she take de 
chil'en at Angland at de old aunt. 



But de men say dat sometime now by 
night dey see de ghos' of de captain walk on 
de rock. 



PHILOSOPHY OF LIFE: FROM FAMOUS THINKERS. 



10 live above our station shows a proud 
heart, and to live under it, discovers 
a narrow soul. — H. Malot. 

The best and most important part of 
man's education is that which he gives him- 
self. — A. Houssaye. 

There is only one stimulant that never 
fails and yet never intoxicates — Duty. Duty 
puts a blue sky over every man — up in his 
heart, maybe — into which the skylark, hap- 
piness, always goes singing. — Lamartine. 

Our greatest glory is not in never falling, 
but in rising every time we fall. — Pascal. 

With love the heart becomes a fair and 
fertile garden, glowing with sunshine and 
warm hues, and exhaling sweet odors ; but 
without love it is a bleak desert covered with 
ashes. — Charles Warren. 

Think wrongly, if you please, but in all 
cases think for yourself. — La Bruyere. 

Every man has a serious rival in the ideal 
man a woman likes to sit and dream about. 
— Paul Bourget. 

Promises made in the time of affliction re- 
quire a better memory than people com- 
monly possess. — A. Daudet. 

To be a great man it is necessary to turn 
to account all opportunities. — La Roche- 
foucauld. 

Most of our misfortunes are more sup- 
portable than the comments of our friends 
upon them. — A. Dumas. 

A man is wise when he seeks wisdom ; a 
knave when he thinks he has acquired it. — 
Fontenelle. 

There is only one thing we are willing 
to have others share with us, it is our opin- 
ion. — Mignet. 



We should often be ashamed of our best 
acting if the world were witness to the mo- 
tives which impelled us. — La Rochefou- 
cauld. 

Let the memory of those oversights by 
which we have suffered instruct us, for 
though past moments cannot be recalled, 
past errors may be repeated. — A. DeMusset. 

Every man has his moments of inspira- 
tion, when he feels and thinks and can do 
what at other times is impossible ; but they 
are only moments, and not many of them at 
a time, and he should, therefore, make most 
of them. — A. Daudet. 

The road to .^inbition is too narrow for 
friendship, too crooked for love, too rugged 
for honesty, and too dark for science. — J. 
J. Rousseau. 

The experience of failure is one that 
comes in a greater or less degree to every 
one at times, trying the metal and probing 
the character as no prosperity can do. — Vic- 
tor Hugo. 

They who have never known prosperity 
can hardly be said to be unhappy ; it is from 
the remembrance of joys we have lost that 
the arrows of affliction are pointed. — Emile 
Zola. 

Old age is the twilight of eternity.— Bar- 
onne d'Huart. 

The secret of happiness is to love one's 
duty, and to find pleasure therein. —Coun- 
tess Dash. 

Good nature is that benevolent and ami- 
able temper of mind which disposes us to 
feel the misfortunes and enjoy the happi- 
ness of others ; and, consequently, pushes 
us on to promote the latter and prevent the 



142 



ORIGIN OF WORLD FAVORITES. 



former ; and that without any abstract con- 
templation on the beauty of virtue and with- 
out the allurements or terrors of religion. — 
Balzac. 

Without a theory it is impossible to know 
what we say when we speak and what we 
do when' we act. — Boyer-Collard, 

To live in the presence of great truths 
and eternal laws, to be led by permanent 
ideals — that is what keeps a man patient 
when the world ignores him, and calm and 
unspoiled when the world praises him. — 
Balzac. 

Heroism is active genius : genius contem- 
plative heroism. Heroism is the self-devo- 
tion of genius manifesting itself in action. 
— Ph. Gerjant. 

Nothing can kill self-respect; everything 
wounds it. — De Segur. 

Among women there cannot exist any 
real inequalities, only that of beauty. — Alph. 
Karr. 

It is not necessary that there should be 
love in a book, but there must be much ten- 
derness. — J. Joubert. 

There are many women who allow them- 
selves to be conquered ; there are few who 
allow themselves to be tamed. — Eugene 
Chavette. 

How utterly miserable to alv/ays depend 
on someone, for it is always "someone" who 
makes you sad or joyful. — Marie Bash- 
kirtseff. 

What is the use of knowing how to tell 
the truth : so few persons know how to hear 
it? — A. d'Houdetot. 



Time is the oldest and most infallible 
of all critics. — E. Rousse. 

Occupation is the scythe of time. — Napo- 
leon I. 

Opinion is a medium between knowledge 
and ignorance. — Plato. 

Those' things which engage us merely by 
their novelty cannot abstract us for any 
length of time. — Pierre Loti. 

Love, in France, is a comedy ; in Eng- 
land, a tragedy ; in Italy, an opera ; and in 
Germany, a melodrama. — Lady Blessington. 

Plope makes a man live, but does not 
nourish him. — Commerson. 

It is easier to believe in someone than 
in something, because the heart reasons 
more than the mind.^Eunece. 

It is in man's nature to hate those whom 
he has offended. — Tacite. 

He who does not know how to forgive, 
knows not how to love. Love lives from 
indulgence and of reciprocal forgiveness. — 
H. Durand. 

The three most difficult things to do are 
to keep a secret, suffer an injury, and em- 
ploy one's leisure. — Voltaire. 

We must not let the grass grow on the 
road of friendship. — Mile. Clairon. 

If thou canst not make thyself loved 
much, make thyself slightly feared. — 
Adolphe d'Houdetot. 

Great mistakes are often made like great 
cables, from a multitude of strands. — V. 
Hugo. 



NAPOLEON: TRIBUTES FROM THE POETS. 



napoleon's last request. 

|H ! bury me deep in the boundless sea, 
Let my heart have a limitless grave. 
For my spirit in life was as fierce and free 
As the course of the tempest wave ; 



And as far from the reach of mortal con- 
trol . 
Were the depths of my fathomless mind ; 
And the ebbs and the flows of my single 
soul 
Were tides to the rest of mankind. 



ORIGIN OF WORLD FAVORITES. 



143 



Then my briny pall shall engirdle the 
world, 
As in life did the voice of my fame, 
And each mountainous billow that sky- 
ward curls 
Shall to fancy re-echo my name ; — 

That name shall be storied in record 
sublime. 
In the uttermost corners of earth, 

And renowned till the wreck of expiring 
time. 
Be the glorified land of my birth. 

Yes, bury my heart in the boundless 
sea, — 
It would burst from a narrower tomb, 

Should less than an ocean my sepulchre be, 
Or if wrapped in less horrible gloom. 



NAPOLEON. 

BY JOHN PIERPONT. 



His falchion flashed along the Nile ; 

His hosts he led through Alpine snows; 
O'er Moscow's towers, that shook the while, 

His eagle flag unrolled — and froze. 

Here sieeps he now alone ; no one 

Of all the kings whose crowns he gave. 

Nor sire, nor brother, wife nor son. 
Hath ever seen or sought his grave. 

Here sleeps he now alone ; the star 
That led him on from crown to crown 

Hath sunk : the nations from afar 
Gazed as it faded and went down. 

He sleeps alone : the mountain cloud 
That night hangs round him, and the 
breath 

Of morning scatters, is the shroud 
That wraps his mortal form in death. 

High is his couch ; the ocean flood 
Far, far below by storms is curl'd, 

As round him heaved, while high he stood. 
A stormy and inconstant world. 



Hark! Comes here from the Pyramids, 
And from Siberia's wastes of snow, - 

And Europe's fields, a voice that bids 
The world he awed to mourn him? No: 

The only, the perpetual dirge 

That's heard there, is the seabird's cry. 
The mournful mourner of the surge, 

The cloud's deep voice, the wind's low 
sigh. 



THE PRISONER OF ST. HELENA. 

Perched on a rock and caged afar 
From Europe's peace, or Europe's war. 
Left to myself, to groan and smart. 
But gifted with a marble heart; 
I still can live — and free from pain 
Dream all my battles o'er again. 
Walk in the sun, and breathe the air. 
Enjoy my bed and daily fare. 
And having won and lost the earth. 
Reflect how little it is worth. 

You driveling, wretched rascal race. 
Who gravely struts upon its face; 
Ye shallow dolts, and half-bred knaves, 
Who for a time have been my slaves, 
I have not grudged to make you bleed. 
Nor spared the thinning of your breed. 
Soon sprout up tares to fill the ground ; 
The wheat, alas! I've seldom found; 
And if amongst you any grew, 
'Tis better mown than mixed with you. 

The scourge your tribes I ne'er refused, 
But man was all the scourge I used ; 
The hope of plunder manned my line. 
And your ambition worked for mine. 
No kingdom did I overthrow 
But would have served its neighbor so ; 
For peace no canting monarch sued 
But would have swaggered if he could ; 
And that proud isle across the sea, 
Wished, in her heart, to rule like mc. 






















C" I 





\k 




ORIGIN OF WORLD FAVORITES. 



145 



Then fare you well ! I scorn your hate, 
Nor fear, nor care, for Europe's prate ; 
But men shall read in after days. 
Who shook her gimcracks to the base, 
Alone I did it ! — for I rose. 
From nothing, against sceptered foes. 



NAPOLEON S MIDNIGHT REVIEW. 

BY CLARENCE MANGAN. 

Translated from German of Baron Von Zeulitz. 
When the midnight hour is come, 

The drummer forsakes his tomb, 
And marches, beating his phantom drum. 

To and fro through the ghastly gloom. 

He plies the drumsticks twain 

With fleshless fingers pale. 
And beats and beats again and again, 

A long and dreary reveille. 

Like the voice of abysmal waves 

Resounds its unearthly tone, 
Till the dead old soldiers, long in their 
graves. 

Awaken through every zone. 

And the slain in the land of the Hun, 
And the frozen in the icy North, 

And those who under the burning sun 
Of Italy sleep, come forth. 

And they whose bones long while 

Lie bleaching in Syrian sands, 
And the slumbers under the reeds of the 
Nile, 

Arise with arms in their hands. 

And at midnight, in his shroud, 
The trumpeter leaves his tomb, 

And blows'a t)la'st, long, deep and loud. 
As he rides through the ghastly gloom. 



And the yellow moonlight shines 
On the old imperial Dragoons ; 

And the Cuirassiers they form in lines, 
And the Carabineers in platoons. 

At a signal the ranks unsheathe 
Their weapons in rear and van ; 

But they scarcely appear to speak or 
breathe. 
And their features are sad and wan. 

And when midnight robes the sky. 

The Emperor leaves his tomb, 
And rides along, surrounded by 

His shadowy staff through the gloom. 

A silver star so bright. 

Is glittering on his breast ; 
In a uniform, of blue and wdiite 

And a gray camp-frock he is dressed. 

The moonbeams shine afar 

On the various marshalled groups. 

And the man with the glittering silver star 
Rides forth to see his troops. 

And the dead battalions all 

Go again through their exercise, 

Till the moon withdraws, and a gloomier 
pall 
Of blackness wraps the skies. 

Then around the chief once more 
The Generals and Marshals throng; 

And he whispers a word oft heard before 
In the ear of the aide-de-camp. 

In files the troops advance. 

And then are no longer seen : 
The challenging watchword is "France ;" 

The answer is "St. Helene." 

And this is the Grand Review, 
Which at midnight on the wolds, 

If popular tales may pass for true, 
The buried Emperor holds. 



SOME BEAUTIFUL THOUGHTS. 

^W (^* ^w 

Poetry and Prose Inspirations to Which Great Souls Have Given Birth. 

^1?* ;i5* ;<?• 



Adversity is a trial of principle. With- 
out it a man hardly knows whether he is 
honest or not. — Fielding. 

Ambition is a spirit in the world 

That causes all the ebbs and flows of na- 
tions, 

Keeps mankind sweet by action ; without 
that 

The world would be a filthy, settled mud. 

— Crozvn. 

There is many a man whose tongue might 
govern multitudes if he could govern his 
tongue. — Anon. 

BENEVOLENCE. 

A man or woman without benevolence is 
not a perfect being ; they are only a de- 
formed personality of true manhood or 
womanhood. — Lamb. 

BIRTHDAYS. 

Birthdays are as mile-posts on the road of 

time. 
Each with its two arms pointing different 

ways : 
On one inscribed in flaming characters, 
"The Past;" and from the other darkly 

gleam. 
Through the murky mists, in letters dimly 

seen, 
The words, "Straightforward for eternity." 

— Byron. 



BEAUTY. 



A beautiful eye makes silence eloquent: 
a kind eye makes contradiction an assent; 
an enraged eye makes beauty deformed. — 
Addison. 



BIBLE. 

It is a belief in the Bible which has served 
me as the guide of moral and literary life. 
— Goethe. 

BETTING. 

Some play for gain; to pass time others 

play 
For nothing; both do play the fool, I say; 
Nor time or coin I'll lose or idly spend; 
Who gets by play, proves loser in the end. 

— Heath. 

BOASTING. 

We rise in glory as we sink in pride; 
Where boasting ends, there dignity begins. 

— Young. 

BRAVERY. 

I dare do all that may become a man ; 
Who dares do more is none. — Shakespeare. 

BREVITY. 

Be silent always, when you doubt your 
sense, 

And speak, tho' sure, with seeming diffi- 
dence. — Pope. 



147 



148 



SOME BEAUTIFUL THOUGHTS. 



CHARACTER. 

You cannot dream yourself into a char- 
acter; you must hammer and forge your- 
self one. — Froude. 

CHILDREN. 

Children are what the mothers are; 
No fondest father's proudest care 
.Can fashion so the infant heart 
As those creative beams that dart 
With all their hopes and fears, upon 
The cradle of a sleeping son. 

— Robert Savage Landor. 

CONCENTRATION. 

Every man who means to be successful, 
must single out from a vast number of pos- 
sible employments some specialty, and to 
that devote himself thoroughly. — Garfield. 

COURTESY. 

True courage and courtesy always go 
hand in hand. The bravest men are the 
most forgiving, and the most anxious to 
adjust quarrels. — Thackeray. 

COURAGE. 

It requires a good, strong man to say : 
"I was mistaken, and am sorry." A weak 
man hesitates and often fails to do the right 
thing. — Franklin. 

DEATH. 

Death, when unmask'd, shows us a friendly 

face, 
And is a terror only at a distance. 

— Goldsmith. 

ELOQUENCE. 

Eloquence is the language of nature, and 
cannot be learnt in the schools. — Colton. 



ENERGY. 



Is there one whom difficulties dishearten, 
who bends to the storm ? He will do little. 
Is there one who will conquer? This kind 
of man never fails. — Hunter. 



FORTUNE. 



Every man is the maker of his own for- 
tune, and must be, in some measure, the 
trumpet of his iaxnQ.—Dryden. 



HATRED. 



Malice and hatred are very fretting, and 
apt to make our minds sore and uneasy. — 
Tillotson. 



IDLENESS. 



Idleness is a constant sin, and labor is a 
duty. Idleness is but the devil's home for 
temptation, and unprofitable, distracting 
musings. — Baxter. 



MARRIAGE. 



Marriage is the best state for man in 
general ; and every man is a worse man in 
proportion as he is unfit for the marriage 
state. — Samuel Johnson. 



MONEY. 



A wise man should- have money in his 
head, but not in his heart. — Swift. 



MEMORY. 



Memory is the only paradise out of which 
we cannot be driven away. — Richier. 



OPINION. 



No liberal man would ever impute a 
charge of unsteadiness to another for hav- 
ing changed his opinion. — Cicero. 




WENDELL PHILLIPS was an impassioned orator of great power, force and influ- 
ence, sentiment entering largely into his forensic efforts. He was a Bostonian, the year 
1811 being that of his birth. He also died there in 1884. He was a mighty advocate of the 
freedom of the slaves, and suffered indignities, even in Boston, at the hands of mobs in 
consequence of his outspoken denunciations. Phillips was a humanitarian in the broadest 
sense, and labored constantly to the end of lifting up the masses. He was a thorough be- 
liever in universal education. 




LIBRARY OF PRESIDENT ROOSEVELT IN THE WHITE HOUSE. 



SOME BEAUTIFUL THOUGHTS. 



151 



TO-MORROW. 

Seek not to know to-morrow's doom; 
That is not ours which is to come. 
The present moments are our store. 

The next should heaven allow 
Then this will be no more ; 

So all our life is but one instant now. 

— Congreve. 

TRUTH. 

Man fearlessly his voice for truth should 
raise, 
When truth would force its way in deed 
or word, 
Whether for him the popular voice of praise 

Or the cold sheer of unbelief is heard, 
Like the First Martyr, when his voice arose 
Distinct above the hissing of his foes. 

— Phoebe Cary. 

In men whom men condemn as ill 
I find so much of goodness still, 
In men, whom men pronounce divine, 
I find so much of sin and blot, 
I hesitate to draw a line 
Between the two, where God has not. 
— Joaquin Miller. 

Green be the turf above thee. 
Friend of my better days 
None knew thee but to love thee 
None named thee but to praise. 

— Fits-Greene Halleck. 

The love principle is stronger than the 
force principle. — Dr. Hodge. 

In great crises it is woman's special lot 
to soften our misfortunes. — Napoleon Bona- 
parte. 

The only way to have a friend is to be 
one.— i?. W. Emerson. 

Always leave the home with loving 
words, for they may be our last. 



That man lives twice that lives the first 
life well. — Robert Herrick. 

We live in deeds, not years ; in thoughts, 
not breaths ; 
In feelings, not figures on a dial. 
We should count time b}^ heart-throbs. He 
most lives 
Who thinks most, feels the noblest, acts 
the best. — Bailey. 

Our lives are albums written through 
With good or ill, with false or true; 
And as the blessed angels turn 

The pages of our years, 
God grant they read the good with smiles 

And blot the ill with tears. 

— John J. Whittier (in an album). 

By the fireside still the light is shining, 
The children's arms round the parents twin- 
ing. 
From love so sweet, O, who would roam ? 
Be it ever so homely, home is home. 

—Miss Mulock. 

It is worth a thousand pounds a year to 
have the habit of looking on the bright side 
of things. — Dr. Johnson. 

People seldom improve when they have 
no other model but themselves to copy after. 
— Oliver Goldsmith. 

A man should never be ashamed to own 
that he has been in the wrong, which is but 
saying, in other words, that he is wiser to- 
day than he was yesterday. — Alexander 
Pope. 

The intelligence of the people is the se- 
curity of the nation. — Daniel Webster. 

Every man is the architect of his own for- 
tune. — Sallust. 

Life is not measured by the time we live. 
— George Crcbb. 



152 



SOME BEAUTIFUL THOUGHTS. 



Work for some good, be it ever so slowly ; 
Cherish some flower, be it ever so lowly; 
Labor, all labor, is noble and holy. 

— Mrs. Frances S. Osgood. 

To be womanly is the greatest charm of 
woman. — Gladstone. 

The voices that spoke to me when a child, 
are now speaking through me to the world. 
— Bishop Simpson. 

I would rather be right than be Presi- 
dent. — Henry Clay. 

I hold it true, whate'er befall, 
. I feel it when I sorrow most — 

'Tis better to have loved and lost 
Than never to have loved at all. 

— Alfred Tennyson. 

Death's but a path that must be trod 
If man would ever pass to God. 

— Thomas Parnell. 

'Tis a blessing to live, but a greater to die ; 
And the best of the world is its path to the 
sky. — John K. Mitchell. 

Do to-day thy present duty. — Goethe. 

Men are judged not by their intentions, 
but by the result of their actions. — Lord 
Chesterfield. 

Not only strike while the iron is hot, but 
make it hot by striking. — Oliver Cromzvell. 

It is little matter at what hour of the day 
The righteous fall asleep. Death cannot 

come 
To him untimely who has learned to die. 
The less of this brief life, the more of 

heaven ; 
The shorter time, the longer immortality. 
— Dean Millman. 



Say not "Good-night," but in some brighter 

clime 
Bid me "Good-morning." 

— Anna Letitia Barhauld. 

Oh ! ever thus, from childhood's hour, 
I've seen my fondest hopes decay ; 

I never loved a tree or flower, 
But 'twas the first to fade away. 

— Thomas Moore, 

THE DRINKING SYSTEM. 

Grief banished by wine will come again. 

And come with a deeper shade. 
Leaving, perchance, on the soul a stain 

Which sorrow hath never made. 
Then fill not the tempting glass for me, 

If mournful, I will not be mad; 
Better sad, because we are sinful, be. 

Than sinful because we are sad, 

WORDS. 

But words are things, and a small drop of 

ink. 
Falling, like dew, upon a thought, produces 
That which makes thousands, perhaps mil- 
lions, think. — Byron. 

Of all bad things by which mankind are 

cursed. 
Their own bad tempers surely are the worst. 
— Cumberland's Merander. 

A pure faithful love is the creative spirit 
that makes women angels. — Ella Wheeler 
Wilcox. 

She most attracts, who longest can refuse. 
— Aaron Hill. 

The purest treasure mortal times afford 
is spotless reputation, that away, men are 
but gilded loam or painted clay. — Shake- 
speare. 



SOME BEAUTIFUL THOUGHTS. 



153 



Oh, what a tangled web we weave, 
When first we practice to deceive. 

— Scott's Marmion. 

Ah ! Httle will the lips reveal 
Of all the burning heart may feel 

— Miss L. E. Landon. 

Success is born of resolution.— L. B. G. 

The man who pauses in his honesty, 
wants little of the villain. — Martyn. 

O, that men should put an enemy in their 
mouths to steal away their brains. — Shake- 
speare. 

Order is Heaven's first law. — Pope's Es- 
say on Man. 

Of sighs that speak a father's woe, 
Of pangs that none but mothers know, 

— Sprague. 

He either fears his fate too much, 

Or his deserts are small, 
That dares not put it to the touch 

To gain or lose it all. 

—The Marquis of Montrose. 

THE FAMILY BIBLE. 

"Thou truest friend man ever knew, 

Thy constancy I've tried; 
When all were false I've found thee true. 
My counsellor and guide. 

The mines of earth no treasures give 

That could this volume buy, 
In teaching me the way to live. 

It taught me how to die." 

The generous heart should scorn a pleas- 
ure which gives others pain. — Thompson. 



•KINDI*ESS. 

What is kindness? It is thinking 

More of others than yourself, 
Counting hearts of fellow mortals 

Of more v%^orth than paltry pelf, 
Acting for your comrades' pleasure, 

Giving without stint or art; 
It is blessing every creature 

With your hand and voice and heart. 
— Emma C. Doivd. 

Strength for to-day is all that we need, 
For there never will be a to-morrow ; 
For to-morrow will prove but another to- 
day, 
With its measure of joy and of sorrow. 
— Philip Doddridge. 

Unblemish'd let me live, or die unknown; 
O grant an honest fame, or grant me none ! 

—Pope. 

Be noble ! and the nobleness that lies 
In other men, sleeping, but never dead. 
Will rise in majesty to meet thine own. 
—James Russell Lowell. 

Cease, every joy, to glimmer on my mind, 

But leave — oh ! leave the light of Hope be- 
hind ! 

What though my winged hours af bliss 
have been. 

Like angel-visits, few and far between. 
— Thomas Campbell. 

In the lexicon of youth which fate re- 
serves for a bright manhood, there is no 
such word as — fail. — Edzvard Bidiver Lyt- 
fon. 

Errors like straws upon the surface flow ; 
He who would search for pearls must dive 
below. — Dryden. 




EDV.^ARD EVERETT HALE was born in Boston in 1822, and was graduated from 
Harvard University in 1S39, and three years later was ordained for the ministry. By no 
means, however, did his duties as a clergyman absorb all his time. He was at once an 
editor, a writer of books, many of which are given a high place in the literature of the 
country. As an orator he demonstrated his rare ability at an early age. One of the best 
known of his books is "A Man Without a Country." 



SOME BEAUTIFUL THOUGHTS. 



155 



SCRIPTURAL PROVERBS AND QUOTATIONS. 



I HE bits of wisdom, sound advice and 
moral instruction given in the Scrip- 
tures in the shape of proverbs and other 
condensed sayings should be known to all. 
Here are a few of them : 
A false balance is an abomination to the 

Lord ; but a just weight is his delight. 
A fool uttereth all his mind; but a wise 

man keepeth it till afterwards. 
A fool's wrath is presently known ; but a 

prudent man covereth shame. 
A good name is rather to be chosen than 

great riches, and loving favor rather than 

silver and gold. 
A man that has friends must show himself 

friendly ; and there is a friend that stick- 

eth closer than a brother. 

A man of understanding holdeth his peace. 

A man's pride shall bring him low ; but 

• honor shall uphold the humble in spirit. 

A merry heart doeth good like a medicine ; 

but a broken spirit drieth the bones. 
A righteous man regardeth the life of his 

beast ; but the tender mercies of the 

wicked are cruel. 
A soft answer turneth away wrath ; but 

grievous words stir up anger. 
A virtuous woman is a crown to her hus- 
band ; but she that maketh ashamed is 

as rottenness in his bones. 
A wise son maketh a glad father ; but a 

foolish son is the heaviness of his mother. 
A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in 

pictures of silver. 
As a bird that wandereth from her nest, so 

is a man that wandereth from his place. 
As a madman who casteth firebrands, ar- 
rows, and death, so is the man that de- 

ceiveth his neighbor, and saith, Am not 

I in sport? 
As the crackling of thorns under a pot, so is 

the laughter of a fool. 



As the whirlwind passeth, so is the wicked 

no more ; but the righteous is an ever- 
lasting foundation. 
As vinegar to the teeth, and as smoke to 

the eyes, so is the sluggard to them that 

send him. 
Be thou diligent to know the state of thy 

flocks, and look well to thy herds; for 

riches are not forever. 
Before honor is humility. 
Better is a dry morsel and quietness there- 
with, than a house full of sacrifices with 

strife. 
Better is a dinner of herbs where love is, 

than a stalled ox and hatred therewith. 
Better is a little with righteousness, than 

great revenues without right. 
Blessings are upon the head of the just ; but 

violence covereth the mouth of the 

wicked. 
Boast not thyself of to-morrow ; for thou 

knowest not what a day may bring forth. 
By much slothfulness the building dccay- 

eth; and through idleness of the hands 

the house droppeth through. 
By pride cometh contention. 
Cast thy bread upon the waters, for thou 

shalt find it after many days. 
Even a fool, when he holdeth his peace, is 

counted wise; and he that shutteth his 

mouth is esteemed a man of understand- 
ing. 
Favor is deceitful, and beauty is vain ; but 

a woman that feareth the Lord, she shall 

be praised. 
Fear God, and keep his commandments; 

for this is the whole duty of man. 
For men to search their own glory is not 

glory. (To talk of their own doings.) 
Go from the presence of the foolish man, 

when thou perceivest not in him the lips 

of knowledge. 



156 



SOME BEAUTIFUL THOUGHTS. 



Go to the ant, thou skiggard; consider her 

ways and be wise. 
God hath made man upright, but they have 

sought out many inventions. 
He becometh poor that dealeth with a slack 

hand ; but the hand of the diHgent mak- 

eth rich. 
He that observeth the wind shall not sow, 

and he that regardeth the clouds shall not 

reap. 
He that passeth by, and meddleth with 

strife belonging not to him, is like one 

that taketh a dog by the ears. 
He that is slow to anger is better than the 

mighty, and he that ruleth his spirit than 

he that taketh a city. 
He that loveth pleasure shall be a poor man ; 

he that loveth wine and oil shall not be 

rich. 
He that is greedy of gain troubleth his own 

house ; but he that hateth gifts shall live. 
He that is of a merry heart hath a continual 

feast. 
He that is first in his own cause seemeth 

just ;; but his neighbor cometh and search- 

eth him. 
He that hath pity upon the poor lendeth to 

the Lord ; and that which he hath given 

will he pay him again. 
He that hideth hatred with lying lips, and 

he that uttereth a slander, is a fool. 
He that spareth the rod hateth his son ; but 

he that loveth him chasteneth betimes. 
He that gathereth in summer is a wise son ; 

but he that sleepeth in harvest is a son 

that causes shame. 
He that walketh uprightly walketh surely ; 

but he that perverteth his ways shall be 

known. 
He that is surety for a stranger shall smart 

for it; and he that hateth suretyship is 

sure. 
He that keepeth [silent] his mouth, keepeth 

his life ; but he that openeth wide his lips 

shall have destruction. 



He that troubleth his own house shall in- 
herit the wind ; and the fool shall be 

servant of the wise of heart. 
Heaviness in the heart of a man maketn it 

stoop ; but a good word maketh it glad. 
Hell and destruction are never full ; so the 

eyes of man are never satisfied. 
His own iniquities shall take the wicked 

himself, and he shall be holden with the 

cords of his own sins. 
Hope deferred maketh the heart sick. 
If sinners entice thee, consent thou not. 
If the iron be blunt, and he do not whet the 

edge, then must he put to more strength ; 

but wisdom is profitable to direct. 
If thine enemy be hungry, give him bread 

to eat; and if he be thirsty, give him 

water to drink ; for thou shalt heap coals 

of fire upon his head, and the Lord shall 

reward thee. 
If thou faint in the day of adversity, thy 

strength is small. 
In all labor there is profit: but the talk of 

the lips tendeth only to penury. 
Iron sharpeneth iron ; so a man sharpeneth 

the countenance of his friend. 
It is nought, it is nought, saith the buyer; 

but when he is gone his way, then he 

boasteth. 
Let another man praise thee, and not thine 

own mouth ; a stranger, and not thine 

own lips. 
Love not sleep, lest thou come to poverty; 

open thine eyes, and thou shalt be satis- 
fied with bread. 
Much food is in the tillage of the poor ; but 

there is that is destroyed for want of 

judgment. 
Pride goeth before destruction, and a 

haughty spirit before a fall. 
Remove not the old landmark; and enter 

not into the fields of the fatherless. 
Say not unto thy neighbor, Go, and come 

again, and to-morrow I will give, wheu 

thou hast it by thee. 



APT, APPROPRIATE A_ND INSTRUCTIVE. 

c^ t^ t^ 

Selections in Poetry and Prose, Representing What is Noblest, Purest, 
Most Beautiful and Entertaining. 

^r ^- ^ 



T is not a difficult matter to fill a vol- 
ume ten times the size of this book 
with selections from the written and spoken 
thoughts of those who, gifted with genius, 
have given expression to sublime sentiments 
calculated to elevate and educate, stir the 
soul to its inmost recesses, send the blood 
throbbing and rushing through the veins, 
kindle anew the fire of patriotism in the 
breasts of young and old alike, stimulate 
love of country, cheer and comfort in time 
of trouble and alleviate sorrow — it is, we 
repeat, an easy task to perform. The great 
difficulty is to cull with judgment, discre- 
tion, discernment and discrimination, and 
the student, and others as well, who look 
through these pages will agree that what 
is found here is most appropriate and fitting 
in every sense. 



Passages in keeping with the death of the 
old century and the birth of the new ; the 
advent of the New Year, following the dis- 
appearance of its predecessor ; selections re- 
lating to the seasons, months and holidays ; 
poetic and prose effusions that are humor- 
ous, pathetic, patriotic, religious, sentimen- 
tal, heroic, martial and pastoral, interspersed 
with the most striking of Shakespeare's 
wisdom, axioms, wit and advice — all these 
are among the gems so lavishly and invit- 
ingly displayed for the benefit, pleasure and 
delectation of all. 

Nothing has been omitted in the follow- 
ing selections which should not have been, 
and what appears in these pages, it can be 
relied upon, is the purest gold. 



BIRTH OF ANOTHER CENTURY. 




HEN the Nineteenth Century was 
born the world was torn by war. 
Europe was in a state of anxiety and unrest 
because of the growing power of the mili- 
tary genius — Napoleon Bonaparte — who 
had overthrown armies in an incredibly 
short time, driven Austria out of Italy, 
wiped out the Venetian Republic, which 
had endured nearly 1,400 years, and shown 
an ambition which naturally gave rise to 
apprehension. All the world was fighting, 



and quiet and peace did not come until near- 
ly 5,000,000 men had been slain, many na- 
tions plunged into bankruptcy, vast terri- 
tories devastated, several cities laid in ruins 
and trade and commerce all but brought to 
a standstill. 

When the Nineteenth Century first saw 
the light of day no man knew what would 
happen within a twelvemonth ; all Europe 
was in arms — the men in the military ser- 
vice and the women and children in the 



157 



APT, APPROPRIATE AND INSTRUCTIVE. 



159 



fields raising food for the hostile factions — 
and the outlook was as gloomy as it could 
be. British North America at that time 
consisted of a half-dozen small scattered 
colonies. There was no great "Province 
of Canada" until forty years later and no 
"Dominion of Canada" until sixty-seven 
years of the new century had passed. 

A hundred years has made a wonderful 
difiference. The Dominion of Canada has 



arisen, the richest and most populous self- 
governing colony in the world, the making 
of a nation that is to be, an integral part 
of the greatest Empire that the world has 
ever known. The same hundred years has 
made the world over again and fitted it up 
with steamships, railway trains and elec- 
trical conveyances. The new century dawns 
on an industrial world whose future prog- 
ress no man may estimate. 



PASSING OF THE OLD YEAR. 



AS the old year merges into the new — 
all the world stops to consider life, 
the passing of time and the nearing of 
eternity — there is a feeling of deep solem- 
nity — another year has passed — we are all 
one year nearer the end of our earthly ex- 
istence. This is a period of sober, solemn 
reflection, our thoughts not only dwell up- 
on the past, but we look forward to the 
future as well. The future unknown and 
unknowable — what is in store for us we can 
only guess, but we know that God is work- 
ing out all things for our good and His 
eternal glory. 

'Tis midnight's holy hour, and silence now 

Is brooding, Hke a gentle spirit, o'er 

The still and pulseless world. Hark ! on the 

winds 
The bell's deep tones are swelling— 'tis the 

• knell 
Of the departed year. No funeral train 
Is sweeping past; yet, on the stream and 

wood, 
With melancholy light, the moonbeams rest 
Like a pale, spotless shroud; the air is 

stirred 
As by a mourner's sigh ; and on yon cloud. 
That floats so still and placidly through 

heaven. 
The spirits of the seasons seem to stand- 
Young Spring, bright Summer, Autumn's 

solemn form, 



And Winter with his aged locks — and 

breathe, 
In mournful cadences, that come aoroad 
Like the far wind-harp's wild and touching 

wail, 
A melancholy dirge o'er the dead year, 
Gone from the earth forever. 

'Tis a time 
For memory and for tears. Within the deep, 
Still chambers of the heart, a specter dim, 
Whose tones are like the wizard voice of 

Time, 
Heard from the tomb of ages, points its cold 
x\nd solemn finger to the beautiful 
And holy visions that have passed away, 
And left no shadow of their loveliness 
On the dead waste of life. That specter lifts 
The coffin-lid of Hope and Joy and Love, 
And, bending mournfully above the pale. 
Sweet forms that slumber there, scatters 

dead flowers 
O'er what has passed to nothingness. 

The year 
Has gone, and, with it, many a glorious 

throng 
Of happy dreams. Its mark is on each 

brow. 
Its shadow in each heart. In its swift course, 
It waved its scepter o'er the beautiful, — 



t6o 



APT, APPROPRIATE AND INSTRUCTIVE. 



A_nd they are not. It laid its pallid hand 
Upon the strong man, — and the haughty 

form 
Is fallen, and the flashing eye is dim. 
It trod the hall of revelry, where thronged 



The bright and joyous, — and the tearful 

wail 
Of stricken ones is heard where erst the 

song 
And reckless shout resounded. 



WATCHING THE NEW YEAR IN. 



O poet was closer to the hearts of the 
people than Eugene Field ; and as 
for children, he took them to his very heart. 
His story of how he and others watched 
the New Year in, in the long ago, is inde- 
scribably sweet : 
Good old days — dear old days 

When my heart beat high and bold — 
When the things of earth seemed full of 
mirth 
And the future a haze of gold! 
Oh, merry was I that winter night, . 

And gleeful our little one's din, 
And tender the grace of my darling's face 

As we watched the New Year in. 
But a voice — a spectre's, that mocked at 
love — 
Came out of the yonder hall ; 
"Tick-tock, tick-tock !" 'twas the solemn 
clock 
That ruefully croaked to all. 

Yet what knew we of the griefs to be 
In the year we longed to greet? 



Love — love was the theme of the sweet, 
sweet dream 
I fancied might never fleet ! 
But the spectre stood in that yonder gloom, 

And these were the words it spake : 
"Tick-tock, tick-tock !" — and they seemed 
to mock 
A heart about to break. 

'Tis New Year's eve, and again I watch 

In the old familiar place, 
And I'm thinking again of that old time 
when 

I looked on a dear one's face. 
Never a little one hugs my knee. 

And I hear no gleeful shout — 
I am sitting alone by the old hearth-stone, 

Watching the old year out. 
But I welcome the voice in yonder gloom 

That solemnly calls to me ; 
"Tick-tock, tick-tock!" — for so the clock 

Tells of a life to be ; 
"Tick-tock, tick-tock !" — 'tis so the cloc k 

Tells of eternity. 



THE OLD YEAR AND THE NEW. 



YA)M ING out, wild bells, to the wild sky. 
The flying cloud, the frosty light ; 
The year is dying in the night ; 
Ring out, wild bells, and let him die. 

Ring out the old, ring in the new. 
Ring, happy bells, across the snow ; 
The year is going, let him go ; 

Ring out the false, ring in the true. 



Ring out the grief that saps the mind 
For those that here we see no more ; 
Ring out the feud of rich and poor, 

Ring in redress to all mankind. 

Ring out a slowly dying cause. 
And ancient forms of party strife ; 
Ring in the nobler modes of life, 

And sweeter manners, purer laws 



APT, APPROPRIATE AND INSTRUCTIVE. 



i6i 



Ring out false pride in place and blood, 
The civic slander and the spite; 
Ring in the love of truth and right, 

Ring in the common love of good. 



Ring in the valiant and the free, 
The larger heart, the kindlier hand; 
Ring out the darkness of the land ; 

Ring in the Christ that is to be. — Tennyson. 



t?* '.^ t^ 



VARIOUS NATIONAL HOLIDAYS. 

CANADA'S BIRTHDAY. 



^ HE following poem is one of the best 
If poems written in honor of Canada's 
Birthday, the first day of July, 1867, when 
the provinces were confederated as "The 
Dominion of Canada": 



With feu de joie, and merry bells, and can- 
nons' thundering peal, 
And pennons fluttering on the breeze, and 

serried rows of steel, 
We greet once more the birthday morn of 

our Canadian land, 
Wide stretching from Atlantic shore to far 

Pacific strand, 
With sweeping rivers, ocean lakes, and 

prairies wide and free. 
And v/aterfalls and forests dim, and moun- 
tains by the sea; 
A country on whose birth there smiled the 

genius of romance, 
Above whose cradle brave hands hung the 

lilied flag of France; 
Whose infancy was grimly nursed in peril, 

pain and woe, 
When gallant hearts found early graves 

beneath Canadian snow; 
When savage raid and ambuscade and 

famine's sore distress 
Combined their strength in vain to crush 

the gallant French noblesse; 
While her dim trackless forests lured again 

and yet again 
From silken courts of sunny France her 

fiower the brave Champlain; 



And now her proud traditions guard four 

ancient rolls of fame, 
Crecy's and Flodden's combatants foi 

ancestors we claim! 
Past feud and battle buried far behind the 

peaceful years, 
Wliile Gaul and Celt and Saxon turn to 

pruning-hooks their spears; 
Four nations welded into one with long 

historic past, 
Have found in these our western wilds one 

common life at last. 

Through the young giant's mighty limbs 

that reach from sea to sea 
There runs a throb of conscious life, of 

waking energy ; 
I'Vom Xova Scotia's misty coast to far 

Pacific shore 
She wakes, a band of scattered homes and 

colonies no more, 
But a young nation, with her life full beat- 
ing in her breast; 
A noble future in her eyes, the Britain of 

the West. 
Hers be the generous task to fill the yet 

untrodden plains 
With fruitful, many-sided life that courses 

through her veins: 
The English honor, nerve and pluck, the 

Scotchman's faith in right, 
The grace and courtesy of France, the Irish 

fancy bright. 
The Saxon's faithful love of home and 

home's affections blest, 



1 62 



VARIOUS NATIONAL HOLIDAYS. 



And chief of all, our holy faith, of all her 
treasures best. 

May she, though poor in luxuries, wax rich 
in noble deeds, 

Knowing that righteousness exalts the 
people that it leads. 

As yet the waxen mould is soft, the open- 
ing page is fair; 

It rests with those who rule us now to leave 
. their impress there — 

The stamp of true nobility, high honor, 
stainless truth, 

The earnest quest of noble ends, the gen- 
erous heart of youth; 

The love of country, soaring far above all 
party strife, 

The love of culture, art and song, the 
crowning grace of life, 



The love of science reaching far through 

Nature's hidden ways, 
The love and fear of Nature's God, a 

nation's highest praise; 
So in the long hereafter our Canada shall be 
The worthy heir of British power and Brit- 
ish liberty, 
Spreading their blessings 'neath her sway 

to her remotest bounds. 
While with the fame of her fair name a 

continent resounds. 
True to the high traditions of our Britain's 

ancient glory 
Of patriots, prophets, martyrs, saints, who 

live in deathless story — 
Strong in their liberty and truth, to shed 

from shore to shore 
A light among the nations, till nations are 

no more! — Ames Maule Machar. 



DOMINION DAY. 



/^ ANAD A, Canada, land of the maple, 
\^ Queen of the forest and river and lake, 
Open thy soul to the voice of thy people, 
Close not thy heart to the music they 
make. 

Bells, chime out merrily. 
Trumpets, call cheerily. 
Silence is vocal, and sleep is awake! 

Canada, Canada, land of the beaver. 

Labor and skill have their triumph 
to-day; 
Oh, may the joy of it flow like a river, 
Wider and deeper as time flies away. 
Bells, chime out merrily. 
Trumpets, call cheerily. 
Science and industry laugh and are gay. 

Canada, Canada, land of the snow-bird. 
Emblem of constancy change cannot kill, 

Faith, that no strange cup has ever un- 
sobered, 
Drinketh, to-day, from love's chalice her 



Bells, chijne out merrily. 
Trumpets, call cheerily. 
Loyalty singeth and treason is still! 

Canada, Canada, land of the bravest. 
Sons of the war-path, and sons of the 
sea, 
Land of no slave-lash, to-day thou enslavest 
Millions of hearts with affection for thee. 
Bells, chime out merrily. 
Trumpets, call cheerily. 
Let the sky ring with the shout of the free. 

Canada, Canada, land of the fairest, 

Daughters of snow that is kissed by the 
sun, 
Binding the charms of all lands that are 
rarest. 
Like the bright cestus of Venus in one! 
Bells, chime out merrily, 
Trumpets, call cheerily, 
A new reign of beauty on earth is begun! 

— John Reade. 



VARIOUS NATIONAL HOLIDAYS 



163 



HERE'S TO THE LAND. 

'I ERE'S to the land of the rock and 



the pine; 
Here's to the land of the raft and the 

river ! 
Here's to the land where the sunbeams 

shine, 
And the night that is bright with the 

North-light's quiver ! 

Here's to the land of the axe and the 
hoe ! 
Here's to the stalwarts that give them 
their glory ; — 
With stroke upon stroke, and with blow 
upon blow, 
The might of the forest has passed into 
story ! 

Here's to the land with its blanket of 
snow ; — 
To the hero and hunter the welcomest 
pillow ! 



Here's to the land where the stormy winds 
blow 
Three days, ere the mountains can talk 
to the billow ! 

Here's to the buckwheats that smoke on 
her board ! 
Here's to the maple that sweetens their 
stor}- ; 
Here's to the scythe that we swing like a 
sword. 
And here's to the fields where we gather 
our glory ! 

Here's to her hills of the moose and the 
deer ; 
Here's to her forests, her fields and her 
flowers ! 
Here's to her homes of unchangeable 
cheer. 
And the maid "neath the shade of her 
own native bowsers ! 

— William Wye Smith. 



QUEBEC. 



UEBEC ! how regally it crowns the 
height, 

Like a tanned giant on a solid 
throne ! 
Unmindful of the sanguinary fight, 
The roar of cannon mingling with the 

moan 
Of mutilated soldiers years agone. 
That gave the place a glory and a name 
Among the nations. France was heard to 

groan ; 
England rejoiced, but checked the proud 

acclaim, — 
A brave young chief had fall'n to vindi- 
cate her fame. 



Wolfe and Montcalm ! two nobler names 

ne'er graced 
The page of history, or the hostile plain ; 
No braver souls the storm of battle 

faced, 
Regardless of the danger or the pain. 
They passed unto their rest without a 

stain 
L'pon their nature or their generous 

hearts. 
One graceful column to the noble twain 
Speaks of a nation's gratitude, and starts 
The tear that Valor claims and Feeling's 

self imparts. 

— Charles San sister. 



164 



VARIOUS NATIONAL HOLIDAYS. 



Shall the mothers who bore us bow the 
head 
And blush for degenerate sons? 
Are the patriot fires gone out and dead? 
Oh, brothers, stand to your guns! 

Let the flag be nailed to the mast 
Defying the coming blast, 
For Canada's sons are true as steel; 
Their mettle is muscle and bone — 
The Southerner never shall place his heel 
On the men of the Northern Zone. 



Oh, we are men of the Northern Zone, 
Where the maples their branches toss. 
The Great Bear rides in his state alone. 
Afar from the Southern Cross. 
Our people shall aye be free; 
They never shall bend the knee, 
For this is the land of the true and the leal. 

Where freedom is bred in the bone. 
The Southerner never shall place his heel 
On the men of the Northern Zone. 

— Robert Kernigan. 



EVER WELCOME MAY DAY. 



AY-DAY really ushers in the love- 
liest of seasons. Nature itself seems 
to smile more broadly than before: 

All the buds and bees are singing; 
All the lily bells are ringing; 
All the brooks run full of laughter. 
And the wind comes whispering after. 



What is this they sing and say? 
"It is May!" 

See! The fair blue sky is brighter 
And our hearts with hope are lighter, 
All the bells of joy are ringing; 
All the grateful voices singing: 
All the storms have passed away. 
"It is May!" 



EASTER SONG. 



AIDENS, awake! For Christ is 
born again! 
And let you feet disdain 
The paths whereby of late they have been 

led. 
Now Death itself is dead, 
And Love hath birth 
And all things mournful find no place on 

earth. 

This morn ye all must go another way 

Than ye went yesterday 

Not with sad faces shall ye silent go 

Where He hath suffered so; 

But where there be 

Full many flowers shall ye wend joyfully. 

Moreover, too, ye must be clad in white. 
As if the ended night 



Were but your bridal-morn's foreshadow- 
ing. 
And ye must also sing 
In angel-wise: 
So shall ye be most worthy in His eyes. 

Maidens, arise! I know where many 

flowers 
Have grown these many nours 
To make more perfect this glad Easter-day ; 
Where tall white lilies sway 
On slender stem, 
Waiting for you to come and garner them ; 

Where banks of mayflowers are, all pink 

and white, 
Which will Him well delight; 
And yellow buttercups, and growing grass. 
Through which the Spring winds pass ; 
And mosses wet, 
Well strown with many a new-born violet. 



VARIOUS NATIONAL HOLIDAYS. 



i6c; 



All these and every other flower are here. 
Will ye not draw anear 
And gather them for Him, and in His 
name, 



Whom all men now proclaim 
Their living King? 

Behold how all these wait your harvesting! 
— Frances Sherman. 



A SPRING SONG. 



N alien in the land of song 
I hear the Spring come to my doors. 
As those who watch the sea, along 
The sweep of unfamiliar shores. 

Sometimes the rain, with soft surprise. 
Showers through a cloud its music sweet 

And v/hen I drop my vagrant eyes, "%»:;*?■ 
A violet glistens by my feet. §^ 

Clear, full, a bell swells up the glen, 
The flowing air clings to the sound ; 

The world is open, free, again 
The pulse of life is in the ground. 



A snowy bough, but one of bloom, 
Floats on the wind: a censer hung; 

And hands unseen the thick perfume 
Spread, as a mist, the walks among. 



And I am won ; old Grief, good-bye ! 

No alien, I will join the throng 
Of those that march with minstrelsy. 

Their cares lost in the vernal song. 

— /. Stuart Thomson. 



GLADNESS AT EASTER TIME. 



IS Easter time, when Christ arose 
There's gladness in the air. 
We bring the lilies white as. snow, 

An Easter offering fair. 
Oh lilies white, and pure, and sweet ! 
We lay them at the Savior's feet. 

But sweeter in the dear Lord's eyes 

Than flowers, however fair. 
Are hearts all full of love for Him, 

That serve Him everywhere. 
Oh may our hearts be pure and sweet 
As now we lay them at His feet ! 



Have you heard the story floating 

Through the fragrant April air? 
Christ is risen, Christ is risen, 

Birds, and skies, and flowers declare. 
Children, children, wake the echoes 

With your songs of joyful praise, 
Let the blessed Easter promise 

Go with you through coming days. 



Ring, happy bells of Eastertime ! 

The world is glad to hear your chime ; 
Across wide fields of melting snow 
The winds of summer softly blow, 

And birds and streams repeat the chime 
Of Eastertime. 

Ring, happy bells of Eastertime ! 
The world takes up your chant sublime : 
"The Lord is risen !" The night of 

fear 
Has passed away, and heaven draws 
near; 
We breathe the air of that blest clime 
At Eastertime. 

Ring, happy bells of Eastertime ! 

Our happy hearts give back your chime. 

The Lord is risen ! We die no more ; 

He opens wide the heavenly door ; 
He meets us while to Him we climb 
At Eastertime. 




LIBRARY OF SECRETARY OF STATE JOHN HAY IN WASHINGTON. 



VARIOUS NATIONAL HOLIDAYS. 



167 



THANKSGIVING PECULIARLY AMERICAN. 



HANKSGIVING Day is peculiarly 
\f an American institution, and the 
New Englanders insist that it, "by right of 
discovery," belongs to them. In "The Land- 
ing of the Pilgrims" Mrs. Felicia Hemans 
gives the true reason for Thanksgiving 
Day: 

The breaking waves dashed high 
On a stern and rock-bound coast, 

And the woods against a stormy sky 
Their giant branches tossed ; 

And the heavy night hung dark 

The hills and waters o'er, 
When a band of exiles moored their bark 

On the wild New England shore. 

Not as the conqueror comes, 

They, the true-hearted, came ; 
Not with the roll of the stirring drums. 

And the trumpet that sings of fame ; 

Not as the flying come 

In silence and in fear ; — 
They shook the depths of the desert gloom 

With their hymns of lofty cheer. 

Amidst the storm they sang, 
And the stars heard, and the sea; 



And the sounding aisles of the dim woods 
rang 
To the anthem of the free. 

The ocean eagle soared 

From his nest by the white wave's foam. 
And the rocking pines of the forest 
roared. — 

This was their welcome home. 

There were men with hoary hair 

Amidst that pilgrim band ; 
Why had they come to winter there, 

Away from their childhood's land? 

There was woman's fearless eye, 

Lit by her deep love's truth ; 
There was manhood's brow serenely high. 

And the fiery heart of youth. 

What sought they thus afar? 

Bright jewels of the mine? 
The wealth of seas, the spoils of war? — 

They sought a faith's pure shrine. 

Ay, call it holy ground. 

The soil where first they trod ; 

They have left unstained what there they 
found, — 
Freedom to worship God. 



THE TWO GREAT FLAGS. 



IWO proud flags to the skies unfurled, 
1^ Types of an English-speaking world; 
Types of the world that is yet to be, 
Rich and happy and proud and free; 
Types of a world of peace and law. 
Closer together in friendship draw! 
Can ye descry with the sight of seers, 
What shall be wrought in coming years? 
E'en but a century more will teach 
A thousand millions the English speech! 



Vast Australia, from sea to sea. 
Peopled all with our kin will be. 
Grand New Zealand, a busy hive, 
Britain in duplicate then, will thrive; 
While the Dark Continent, dark no more. 
Lighted with industry, law and love. 
India's boundless, human sea. 
Great and honored and justly free, 
India then shall speak the tongue 
Shakespeare uttered and Milton sung. 



VARIOUS NATIONAL HOLIDAYS. 



What of Columbia's later fame? 

What for her can the century claim? 

Ask what the century past has done ; 

Gaze on the triumphs that she has won. 

Give the imagination rein; 

People each tenantless hill and plain; 

Swell her borders, and all around 

View the Republic, ocean bound! 

Yes, but a century more will teach 

A thousand millions the EngHsh speech. 

And, as the centuries onward roll, 

Earth shall feel it from pole to pole. 

Speech, the grandest tliat m.^n has known. 



Gathering thought from every zone; 
Law, the best that the human mind 
Ever devised to rule mankind; 
Literature, from every pen 
Ever wielded to gladden men, — 
Covering Earth like a whelming sea, 
Anglo-Saxon the world shall be. 
Two proud flags to the skies unfurled, 
Types of an English-speaking world; 
Types of the world that is yet to be. 
Types of a world of peace and law, — 
Close together in friendship draw! 

Hubert M. Skinner. 



WHY WE ARE THANKFUL. 



ALPH WALDO EMERSON gives 
these reasons for thankfulness : 

For flowers that bloom about our feet ; 
For tender grass, so fresh, so sweet; 
For song of bird, and hum of bee ; 
For all things fair we hear or see, 
Father in heaven, we thank Thee ! 

For blue of stream and blue of sky ; 
For pleasant shade of branches high ; 
For flagrant air and cooling breeze; 
For beauty of the blooming trees, 
Father in heaven, we thank Thee. 

Griswold North put it in this way when 
telling why our Puritan forefathers ob- 
served the day : 



They thanked their God because once more 
The fevered death had passed them by; 
Though still it lurked behind the door. 

They thanked their God that from on high 

Had come abundant food and drink : 
Their sunken faces gave the lie. 

They thanked their God with tears to think 

The perils of the night grew less ; 
And fierce eyes watched them at the chink. 

They thanked their God and begged Him 
bless 

Their scanty lands, and ease their care. 

And we who hold the answered prayer — 
We keep the name of thankfulness. 



CHARM OF THE CHRISTMAS TIME. 




ASHINGTON IRVING, whose 
rfl t writing3 were poetry in the guise 

of prose, says of Christmas : 

"There is something in the very season of 

the year that gives a charm to the festivity 

of Christmas. 

"At other times we derive a great portion 

of our pleasures from the mere beauties of 

nature. Our feelings sally forth and dis- 



sipate themselves over the sunny landscape, 
and 'we live abroad and everywhere.' The 
song of the bird, the murmur of the stream, 
the breathing fragrance of spring, the soft 
voluptuousness of summer, the golden 
pomp of autumn, earth with its mantle of 
refreshing green, and heaven with its deep, 
delicious blue and its cloudy magnificence, 
all fill us with mute but exquisite delight, 



VARIOUS NATIONAL HOLIDAYS. 



i6q 



and we revel in the luxury of mere sensa- 
tion. 

"But in the depth of winter, when nature 
lies despoiled of every charm, and wrapped 
in her shroud of sheeted snow, we turn for 
our gratifications to moral sources. The 
dreariness and desolation of the landscape, 
the short, gloomy days and darksome 
nights, while they circumscribe our wan- 
derings, shut in our feelings also from 
rambling abroad, and make us more keenly 
disposed for the pleasure of the social circle. 
Our thoughts are more concentrated ; our 
friendl}'' sympathies more aroused. We feel 
more sensibly the charm of each other's so- 
ciety, and are brought more closely together 
by dependence on each other for enjoyment. 
Heart calleth unto heart, and we draw our 
pleasures from the deep wells of loving- 
kindness which lie in the quiet recesses of 
our bosoms ; and which, when resorted to, 



furnish forth the pure element of domestic 
felicity. 

"The pitchy gloom without makes the 
heart dilate on entering the room filled with 
the glow and warmth of the evening fire. 
The ruddy blaze diffuses an artificial sum- 
mer and sunshine through the room, and 
lights up each countenance in a kindlier 
welcome. Where does the honest face of 
hospitality expand into a broader and more 
cordial smile — where is the shy glance of 
love more sweetly eloquent than by the 
winter fireside? And as the hollow blast 
of wintry wind rushes through the hall, claps 
the distant door, whistles about the case- 
ment, and rumbles down the chimney, what 
can be more grateful than that feeling of 
sober and sheltered security with which we 
look around upon the comfortable chamber 
and the scene of domestic hilarity?" 



JUST A MENTION OF THE SEASONS. 



HE Seasons certainly deserve mention 
in this connection. Listen to what 
the poets say: 

Spring. — 

Is this a time to be gloomy and sad, 

When our mother Nature laughs around, 
When even the deep blue heavens look 
glad, 
And gladness breathes from the blossom- 
ing ground? 

The clouds are at play in the azure space, 
And their shadows at play on the bright 
green vale ; 

And here they stretch to the frolic chase, 
And there they roll on the easy gale. 

And look at the broad-faced sun, how he 
smiles 



On the dewy earth that smiles on his ray. 
On the leaping waters and gay young isles ; 
Aye, look, and he'll smile thy gloom 
away. 

Summer. — 

When summer comes in radiant dress. 

And sunshine floods the land, 
And blossoms, buds and butterflies 

Are seen on every hand, 
It's quite beyond disputing 

That, far more than the rest — 
The winter, spring, and autumn — 

I love sweet summer best. 

Autumn. — 

There's music in the air, i 

Soft as the bee's low hum ; 
There's music in the air. 

When the autumn days are come. 



lyo 



VARIOUS NATIONAL HOLIDAYS. 



Fairies sweet, your songs we hear, 

At times you're sad, then full of cheer; 

Come out! come out! we know you're 
near, 
By the music in the air. 

Winter. — 

Old winter comes forth in his robe of white; 
He sends the sweet flowers far out of sight; 
He robs the trees of their green, leaves 
bright; 
And freezes the pond and river. 

We like the spring with its fine fresh air; 
We like the summer with flowers so fair; 
We Hke the fruits we in autumn share. 
And we like, too, old Winter's greeting. 



This is expressive, also: 

Birds are in the woodland. 
Buds are on the tree; 



Merry Spring is coming, 
Ope the pane and see. 

Then come sportive breezes, 
Fields with flowers are gay, 

In the woods we're singing. 
Through the Summer day. 

Fruits are ripe in Autumn. 

Leaves are sere and red; 
Then we glean the cornfield, 

Thanking God for bread. 

Then at last comes Winter, 
Fields are cold and lorn. 

But there's happy Christmas, 
When our Lord was born. 

Thus as years roll onward, 

Merrily we sing, 
Thankful for the blessings 

All the seasons bring. 



SPRING. 



©THE frozen valley and frozen hill 
make a coflin wide and deep, 
And the dead river Hes, all its laughter 
stilled within it, fast asleep. 

The trees that have played with the merry 
thing, and freighted its breast with leaves, 

Give never a murmur or sign of woe — they 
are dead — no dead thing grieves. 

No carol of love from a song-bird's throat; 

the world lies naked and still. 
For all things tender, and all things sweet, 

liave been touched by the gruesome chill. 

Not a flower, — a blue forget-me-not, a wild 

rose or jessamine soft, 
To lay its bloom on the dead river's lips, 

that have kissed them all so oft. 

But look, a ladder is spanning the space 
'twixt earth and the sky beyond. 



A ladder of gold for the Maid of Grace — 
the strong, the subtle, the fond! 

Spring, with the warmth in her footsteps 
light, and the breeze and the fragrant 
breath. 

Is coming to press her radiant face to that 
which is cold in death. 

Spring, with a mantle made of the gold 
held close in a sunbeam's heart, 

Thrown over her shoulders, bonnie and 
bare, — see the sap in the great trees start. 

Where the hem of this flowing garment 
trails, see the glow, the color bright, 

A-stirring and spreading of something fair 
— the dawn is chasing the night! 

Spring, with all love and all dear delights 

pulsing in every vein, 
The old earth knows her, and thrills to her 

touch, as she claims her own again. 



VARIOUS NATIONAL HOLIDAYS. 



171 



Spring, with the hyacinths filhng lier cap, 
and the violet seeds in her hair, 

With the crocus hiding its satin head in her 
bosom warm and fair; 

Spring, with its daffodils at her feet, and 

pansies a-bloom in her eyes, 
Spring, with enough of the God in herself 

to make the dead to arise! 

For see, as she bends o'er the coffin deep — 
the frozen valley and hill — 



Tlie dead river stirs, Ah, that ling'ring kiss 
is making its heart to thrill! 

x\nd then as she closer, and closer leans, it 

slips from its snowy shroud. 
Frightened a moment, then rushing away, 

calling and laughing aloud! 

The hill where she rested is all a-bloom — 

the wood is green as of old, 
And 'wakened birds are striving to send 

their songs to the Gates of Gold. 

— Jean Blezvett. 



APRIL IN THE HILLS. 



O-DAY the world is wide and fair 
With sunny fields of lucid air, 
And waters dancing everywhere; 

The snow is almost gone; 
The noon is builded high with light. 
And over heaven's liquid height, 
In steady fleets serene and white, 
The happy clouds go on. 

The channels run, the bare earth steams, 
And every hollow rings and gleams 
With jetting falls and dashing streams; 

The rivers burst and fill; 
The fields are full of little lakes, 
And when the romping wind awakes 
The water ruffles blue and shakes, 

And the pines roar on the hill. 

The crows go by, a noisy throng; 
About the meadows all day long 
The shore-lark drops his brittle song; 
And up the leafless tree 



The nut-hatch runs, and nods, and clings; 
The bluebird dips with flashing wings, 
The robin flutes, the sparrow sings. 
And the swallows float and flee. 

I break the spirit's cloudy bands, 
A wanderer in enchanted lands, 
I feel the sun upon my hands; 

And far from care and strife 
The broad earth bids me forth, I rise 
With lifted brown and upward eyes. 
I bathe my spirit in blue skies, 

And taste the springs of life. 

I feel the tumult of new birth; 
I waken with the wakening earth; 
I match the bluebird in her mirth; 

And wild with wind and sun, 
A treasurer of immortal days, 
I roam the glorious world with praise. 
The hillsides and the woodland ways. 

Till earth and I are one. 

— Archibald Lainpman. 



JUNE IS COMING. 



fUNE is not here, and yet I feel 
'Tis softly tripping up the way; 
The hours that throb thro' morn and noon, 

Have caught the glory of its ray. 
I lean my ear to Nature's heart 

And count its pulse of anxious care, 



That holds communion with a plan 
Deep set in dreams of toil and prayer. 

June is not here, and yet my heart 

Drinks in the freshness of its morn — 
The rose that blossoms on its cheek 



172 



V A R T O V S NAT! O N A L HOLIDAYS. 



With light and love my day adorns. 
The fields of heaven are tender blue, 

And clad with green are hill and plain; 
While from each bud and blossom bright 

There bursts a sweet and glad refrain. 

June is not here, and yet my soul 

Is touched with Nature's throb divine; 



The brook that slips thro' moss and 
mead 
Is to my heart a gift and sign. 
O God, I thank Thee for this love 

That binds my soul in joy and tear, 
That makes my life a hymn of praise 
To that great work, when June is here! 
— Thomas O'Ha^an. 



AUGUST BELONGS TO THE GIRLS. 



UGUST, by general consent, is given 
over to the girls as their own month, 
with liberty to do with it as they please. 
They are not so boisterous as the boys, how- 
ever, and make less noise, but undoubtedly 
they have a fine tmie in their own quiet, de- 
mure way. Marian Douglass calls August 
the Cheerful Month, and puts it in this way : 

There is a little maiden — 
Who is she? Do you know? 

Who always has a welcome 
Wherever she may go. 

Her face is like the May time ; 

Her voice is like a bird's ; 
The sweetest of all music 

Is in her joyful words. 

The loveliest of blossoms 

Spring where her light foot treads. 



And most delicious odors 
She all around her sheds. 

The breath of purple clover 

Upon the breezy hills; 
The smell of garden roses. 

And yellow dafifodils. 

Each spot she makes the brighter 
As if she were the sun ; 

And she is sought and cherished, 
And loved by every one. 

By old folks and by children, 

By lofty and by low ; 
Who is this little maiden ? 

Does anybody know? 

You surely must have met her — 
You certainly can guess : 

What ! must I introduce her ? 
Her name is Cheerfulness. 



LAST MONTH OF AUTUMN. 



yjp^REES bare and brown, 
f\(p Dry leaves everywhere, 
Dancing up and down. 
Whirling through the air. 

Red-cheeked apples roasted. 
Popcorn almost done, 

Toes and chestnuts toasted, 
That's November fun. 



My sisters are September and October 
bright and gay; 

They're beautiful in richer charms, while 
I am brown and gray; 

Yet all their glorious days cannot compare 
with one I bring; 

This one, the loveliest of the fall, Thanks- 
giving Day I sing. 



VARIOUS NATIONAL HOLIDAYS. 



173 



Harvest is come. The bins are full. 

The barns are running o'er; 
Both grains and fruits we've garnered in 

Till we've no space for more. 



We've worked and toiled through heat and 
cold 

To plant, to sow, to reap; 
And now for all this bounteous store 

Let us Thanksgiving keep. 



OCTOBER HERALDS THE FROSTY SEASON. 



SAID Mrs. Maple to her neighbor, 
"Have you got your new fall gown! 
Mr. Frost has lovely samples, 

That he's brought from Wintertown. 

"I thought I'd get a yellow. 
With a woodbine sash of red, 

Something bright for chilly w-eather, 
And that's stylish, Jack Frost said." 

So when hick'rys, oaks, and maples 
Were in gold and crimson dressed. 



Looked they into water mirrors, 
Seeing which one looked the best. 

Though the water laughed and dimpled 

Over this reflection bright, 
Mr. Frost was very angry 

When the sun withdrew his light. 

For his brilliant autumn colors 
Needed Indian summer light. 

So he tore their pretty finerv, 

And locked up their mirrors tight. 



HOW THANKSGIVING DAY CAME ABOUT. 



^II^L E learn it all in history — you didn't Or p'rhaps I wasn't listening when she was 

llfYl think I knew? I telling why ; 

Why, don't you suppose I study my lessons? But if the Pilgrim Mothers were busy mak- 

Course I do. ing pie, 

The Pilgrim Fathers did it, they made ■ I s'pose they couldn't bother, and so tha' 

Thanksgiving Day. j was the way 



Why? Oh, I don't remember; my history 
doesn't say, 



It happened that the Fathers made our 
Thanksgiving Day. 



THE SAVIOUR CAME TO US IN DECEMBER. 



N Bethlehem, the story goes, 
A little child was born. 
Low in a manger he was laid 
The first glad Christmas morn. 

That Child is now our Saviour King, 
Of Him we sing to-day; 



And may glad bells o'er all the earth 
Ring out the gladsome lay. 

'Little Christ-Child! 
He was given on Christmas Day— 
In His name, let 
Children give the best they may!''" 



1/4 



VARIOUS X A T I O X A L HOLIDAYS. 



Sing a song of Christmas, 

Stockings full of toys. 
All things in Santa's pack 

For merry girls and boys. 

Then sing so loud and sing so strong 

That each one will remember 
How full is the world of boys and girls 

This iov-dav of December. 



The whole world is a Christmas tree 
And stars its many candles be. 
Oh. sing a carol joyfully, 

The world's great feast in keeping. 
For once on a December night, 
An angel held a candle bright, 
And led three wise men by its light 

To where a child was sleeping. 



ALL CHILDREN KNOW THIS STORY. 



HILDREX, can you truly tell, 
Do you know the ston.- well, 
Ever}- girl and ever}" boy, 
Why the angels sang for joy 

On the Christmas morning? 

Yes. we know the story well, 
Listen now and we will tell. 
Ever}- girl and even.- boy, 
\Vhy the angels sang for joy 

On tlie Christmas morning. 



Shepherds sat upon the ground, 
Fleecy flocks were scattered "round 
\Mien tlie brightness filled the sky 
And a song was heard on high, 
On the Christmas morning. 

Angels sang a clear, sweet song. 
For a holy Babe was bom, 
Down on earth, to live with men, 
Jesus, our dear Savior, came 
On the Christmas morning. 



HYMN OF THE CHRISTMASTIDE. 



AL^I on the listening ear of night 
Come heaven's melodious strain: 
^Vhere wild Jud^a stretches far 
Her silver-mantled plains. 

Celestial choirs from courts above 

Shed sacred glories there ; 
And angels with their sparkling harps 

Make music on the air. 

llie answering hills of Palestine 

Send back a glad reply ; 
And greet, from all their holy heights, 

The Dayspring from on high. 



On the blue depths of Galilee 

There comes a holier calm. 
And Sharon waves, in solemn praise. 

Her silent groves of palm. 

Glor}- to God! the sounding skies 
Loud with their anthems ring : 

Peace to the earth — good will to men. 
From Heaven's Eternal King. 

Light on tliy hills, Jerusalem I 

The Saviour now is bom I 
And bright on Bethlehem's joyous plains 

Breaks the first Christmas morn. 

— Scars. 



HOW WE SPENT CHRISTMAS. 



^ll^y^E didn't have much of a Christma: 
I IfV? ^iy P^P^ ^-^ Rosie and me. 
For mamma'd gone out to the prison 
To trim up the poor pris'ner's tree ; 



And Ethel, my big gi own-up sister. 
Was down at rhe 'sykmi all day. 

To help at the great turkey dinner. 
And teach games for the orphans to play- 



VARIOUS NATIONAL HOLIDAYS. 



175 



She belongs to a club of young ladies, 
With a "beautiful ohjick," they say, 

'Tis to go among poor lonesome children 
And make all their sad hearts more gay. 

And Auntie, you don't know my Auntie ? 

She's my own papa's half-sister Kate; 
She was 'bliged to be round at the chapel 

Till 'twas, — Oh, sometimes dreadfully 
late, 
For she pities the poor worn-out curate : 

His burdens, she says, are so great. 
So she 'ranges the flowers and the music. 

And he goes home around by our gate. 
I should think this way must be the longest, 

But then, I suppose he knows best. 
Aunt Kate says he intones most splendid ; 

And his name is Vane Algeron West. 

My papa had bought a big turkey. 

And had it sent home Christmas Eve ; 
But there wasn't a soul here to cook it, 

You see Bridget had threatened to leave 
If she couldn't go off with her cousin, 

(He doesn't look like her one bit). 
She says she belongs to a "union," 

And the union won't let her submit. 
So we ate bread and milk for our dinner, 

And some raisins and candy, and then 
Rose and me went down-stairs to the pantry 

To look at the turkey again. 

Papa said he would take us out riding — 
Then he thought that he didn't quite dare. 

For Rosie'd got cold and kept coughing; 
There was dampness and chills in the air. 

THE CONVICT'S 

HE term was done; my penalty was 
\f past ; 

I saw the outside of the walls at last. 
When I left that stone punishment of sin, 
'Twas 'most as hard as when I first went in. 
It seemed at once as though the swift- 
voiced air 



Oh, the day was so long and so lonesome ! 

And our papa was lonesome as we : 
And the parlor was dreary — no sunshine, 

And all the sweet roses, — the tea. 
And the red ones, and ferns and carnations, 

That have made our bay-window so 
bright, 
Mamma'd picked for the men at the prison ; 

To make their bad hearts pure and white. 

And we all sat up close to the window. 

Rose and me on our papa's two knees, 
And we counted.the dear little birdies 

That were hopping about on the trees. 
Rosie wanted to be a brown sparrow ; 

But I thought I would rather, by far, 
Be a robin that flies away winters 

Where the sunshine and gay blossoms 
are. 
And papa wished he was a jail-bird, 

'Caused he thought that they fared the 
best; 
But we all were real glad we weren't tur- 
keys. 

For then we'd been killed with the rest. 

That night I put into my prayers, — 

"Dear God, we've been lonesome to-day, 
For Mamma, Aunt, Ethel, and Bridget, 

Every one of them all went away. — 
Won't you please make a club, or society, 

'Fore it's time for next Christmas to be. 
To take care of philanterpists' fam'lies, 

Like papa and Rosie and me?" 

— Julia Walcott. 

CHRISTMAS EVE. 

Told slanderous tales about me everywhere ; 
As if the ground itself was shrinking back 
For fear 'twould get the Cain's mark of my 
track. 

Men looked me over with close, careless 
gaze, 



176 



VARIOUS NATIONAL HOLIDAYS. 



And understood my downcast, jail-bred 
ways. 

My hands were so grime-hardened and de- 
filed, 

I really wouldn't have dared to pet a child; 

If I had spoken to a dog that day, 

He would have tipped his nose and walked 
away; 

The world itself seemed to me every bit 

As hard a prison as the one I'd quit. 

So I trudged round appropriately slow 
P'or one with no particular place to go. 
The houses scowled and stared as if to say : 
"You jail-bird, we are honest; walk away!" 
The factory seemed to scream when I came 

near, 
"Stand back! unsentenced men are work- 
ing here!" 
And virtue had th' appearance all the time 
Of trying hard to push me back to crime. 

It struck me strange, that stormy, snow- 
bleached day, 
To watch the different people on the way, 
All. carrying bundles, of all sorts of sizes, 
As carefully as gold and silver prizes. 
Well-dressed or poor, I could not under- 
stand 
Why each one hugged a bundle in his hand. 
I asked an old policeman what it meant. 
He looked me over with eyes shrewdly 

bent. 
While muttering in a voice that fairly froze : 
"It's 'cause to-morrow's Christmas, I sup- 
pose." 
And then the fact came crashing over me. 
How horribly alone a man can be! 

1 don't pretend what tortures yet may wait 
For souls that have not run their reckon- 
ings straight; 
it, isn't for mortal ignorance to say 
What kind of night may follow any day; 



There may be pain for sin some time found 

out 
That sin on earth knows nothing yet about ; 
But I don't think there's any harbor known 
Worse for a wrecked soul than to be alone. 
So evening saw me straggling up and down 
Within the gayly-lighted, desolate town, 
A hungry, sad-hearted hermit all the while. 
My rough face begging for a friendly smile. 
Folks talked with folks in new-made 

warmth and glee. 
But no one had a word or look for me ; 
Love flowed like water, but it could not 

make 
The world forgive me for my one mistake. 

An open church some look of welcome 
wore; 

I crept in soft, and sat down near the door. 

I'd never seen, 'mongst my unhappy race 

So many happy children in one place; 

I never knew how much a hymn could 
bring 

From heaven, until I heard those children 
sing; 

I never saw such sweet-breathed gales of 
glee 

As swept around that fruitful Christmas- 
tree. 

You who have tripped through childhood's 

merry days 
With passionate love protecting all your 

ways, 
Who did not see a Christmas-time go by 
Without some present for your sparkling 

eye. 
Thank God, whose goodness gave such joy 

its birth, 
And scattered heaven-seeds in the dust of 

earth ! 
In stone-paved ground my thorny field was 

set; 
I never had a Christmas present yet. 




A CONDENSED HALL LIBKARY. 



178 



VARIOUS NATIONAL HOLIDAYS. 



Just then a cry of "Fire!" amongst us 

came; 
The pretty Christmas-tree was all aflame; 
And one sweet child there in our startled 

gaze 
Was screaming, with her white clothes all 

ablaze. 
The crowd seemed crazy-like, both old and 

young. 
And very swift of speech, though slow of 

tongue. 
But one knew what to do, and not to say, 
And he a convict, just let loose that day! 

I fought like one who deals in deadly strife ; 
I wrapped my life around that child's sweet 

life; 
I choked the flames that choked her, with 

rich cloaks, 
Stol'n from some good but very frightened 

folks ; 
I gave the dear girl to her parents' sight, 
Unharmed by anything excepting fright; 
I tore the blazing branches from the tree; 
And all was safe, and no one hurt but me. 

That night, of which I asked for sleep in 

vain — 
That night, that tossed me round on prongs 

of pain. 
That stabbed me with fierce tortures 

through and through, 
Was still the happiest that I ever knew. 
I felt that I at last had earned a place 
Among my race, by suffering for my race; 
I felt the glorious facts wouldn't let me 

miss 
A mother's thanks — perhaps a child's sweet 

kiss; 
That man's warm gratitude would find a 

plan 
To lift me up, and help me be a man. 

Next day they brought a letter to my bed. 
I opened it with tingling nerves and read: 



"You have upon m.y kindness certain claims 
For rescuing my young child from the 

flames; 
Such deeds deserve a hand unstained by 

crime; 
I trust you will reform while yet there's 

time. 
The blackest sinner may find mercy still. 
(Inclosed please find a thousand dollar bill.) 
Our paths of course on different roads must 

lie; 
Don't follow me for any more. Good-bye." 

I scorched the dirty rag till it was black ; 

Inclosed it in a rag and sent it back. 
That very night I cracked a tradesman's 
door, 

Stole with my blistered hands ten thousand 
more, 

Which next day I took special pains to send 

To my good, distant, wealthy, high-toned 
friend. 

And wrote upon it in a steady hand. 

In words I hoped he wouldn't misunder- 
stand: 

"Money is cheap, as I have shown you here. 

But gratitude and sympathy are dear. 

These rags are stolen — have been — may 
often be; 

I trust the one wasn't that you sent to me. 

Hoping your pride and you are recon- 
ciled — 

From the black, sinful rescuer of your 
child." 

I crept to court — a crushed, triumphant 
worm — 

Confessed the theft, and took another term. 

My Ufe closed, and began; and I am back 

Among the rogues that walk the broad- 
gauged track. 

I toil 'mid every sort of sin that's known; 

I walk rough roads — but do not walk alone! 
— Will Carleton. 



VARIOUS NATIONAL HOLIDAYS. 



179 



A TENDER, WELCOME GREETING. 



STATELY mansion, bright and gay 
With festal light, made darkness day 
Far up and down the dusky street 
That Christmas night, while hurrying feet 
Sped swiftly by, nor scarce delayed 
For all the dulcet sounds that strayed 
In merry measures from within, 
Where harp and flute and violin 
In soft accordance, wild and sweet, 
Made music for the dancers' feet. 
All silken-clad those feet that kept 
That time and tune, or lightly stept 
From room to room, from stair to stair; 
All silken-clad; while standing there 
Shut from the summer warmth and cheer. 
The silken perfumed atmosphere 

Of wealth and ease, a little maid 
With beating heart, yet unafraid, 
Enchanted, watched the fairy scene 
Between the curtains' parted screen. 
The fierce north wind came sweeping past 
And shook her with its wintry blast; 
The frosty pavement of the street 
Chilled to the bone her ill-clad feet; 

Yet moment after moment fled 
And there she stood, with lifted head, 
Her eager eyes, as in a trance. 
Fixed on the changes of the dance, 
Her eager ears still drinking in 
The strains of flute and violin; 
And still, as sped the moments past. 
Colder and colder swept the blast. 

But little heed had she, or care, 

Her glance upon one vision fair, 

One vision, one, beyond the rest — 

A girl with roses on her breast, 

And with a look upon her face, 

The sw eet girl-face of Heaven's own grace, 

As through the dance she smiling led 

Her youthful guests, with airy tread. 



'Ah, would she smile on me like this. 
And would she give m^kiss for kiss, 
If I could stand there at her side?" 
The wistful watcher softly cried. 
Even as she spoke she closer crept, 
Upon the broad, low terrace stept, 
And nearer leaned. — Just then, just there, 
A street light sent a sudden flare 

Across her face. — One startled glance. 
And from the changes of the dance, 
With beating heart and eyes dilate. 
The girlish mistress of the fete 
Sprang swiftly forth. — A moment more 
xA.nd through the window's open door 
Another guest was ushered in. 
Her lip was pale, her cheek was thin. 

No costly robe of silk and lace 
Appareled her, and on her face 
And in her dark, bewildered eyes 
A shock of fear and shamed surprise 
Did wildly, desperately gleam. 
While here and there, as in a dream. 
She vaguely heard, yet did not hear, 
The sound of voices far and near. 

She tried to speak: some word she said 
Of all her troubled doubt and dread, 
Some childish word — "what would they 

do?" 
Then all at once a voice rang through 
Her troubled doubt, her troubled fear, 
"What will they do? why, this — and this!" 
And on her cold lips dropped a kiss, 

And round her frozen figure crept 
A tender clasp. — She laughed and wept 
And laughed again, for this and this. 
This tender clasp, this tender kiss. 
Was more than all her dream come true 
Was earth with Heaven's light shining 

through, 
Was Christ's own promise kept aright — 
His word fulfilled on Christ-day night! 



i8o 



VARIOUS NATIONAL HOLIDAYS. 



"LONG 'FORE I KNOWED WHO SANTY-CLAUS WUZ." 



fES' a little bit o' feller — I remember 
still— 
Ust to almost cry for Christmas, like a 

youngster will. 
Fourth o' July's nothin' to it — New Year's 

ain't a smell; 
Easter Sunday — Circus day — jes' all dead 

in the shell! 
Lordy, though! at night, you know, to set 

around and hear 
The old folks work the story off about the 

sledge and deer, 
And "Santy" skootin' around the roof, all 
wrapped in fur and fuzz — 
Long afore 

I knowed who 

"Santy-Claus" wuz! 



Ust to wait, and set up late, a week or two 
ahead ; 

Couldn't hardly keep awake, ner wouldn't 
go to bed; 

Kittle stewin' on the fire, and Mother set- 
tin' here 

Darnin' socks, and rockin' in the skreeky 
rockin'-cheer 

Pap gap, and wunder where it wuz the 
money went. 

And quar'l with his frosted heels, and spill 
his liniment; 



And me a-dreamin' sleigh-bells when the 
clock 'ud whir and buzz, 
Long afore 

I knowed who 

"Santy-Claus" wuz! 

Size the fire-place up, and figger how "Old 

Santy" could 
Manage to come down the chimbly, like 

they said he would; 
Wisht that I could hide and see him — 

wundered what he say 
Ef he ketched a fellar layin' for him that 



away 



But I bet on him, and liked him, same as 

ef he had 
Turned "to pat me on the back and say, 

"Look here, my hd. 
Here's my pack — jes' he'p yourself, like a 
good boy does!" 
Long afore 

I knowed who 

"Santy-Claus" wuz! 

Wisht that yarn was true about him, as it 

'peared to be — 
Truth made out o' hes like that-un's good 

enough fer me! 
Wisht I still wuz so conlidin' I could jes' 

go wild 
Over hanging up my stockin's like the little 

child. 



A CHRISTMAS EVE ADVENTURE. 



NCE on a time, in a queer little town 
On the shore of the Zuyder Zee, 
When all the good people were fast asleep, 
A strange thing happened to me! 

Alone, the night before Christmas, 

I sat by the glowing fire, 
Watching the flame as it rose and fell, 

While the sparks shot high and higher. 



Suddenly one of these sparks began 
To flicker and glimmer and wink 

Like a big bright eye, till I hardly knew 
What to do or to say or to think. 

Quick as a flash, it changed to a face. 
And what in the world did I see 

But dear old Santa Claus nodding his head 
And waving his hand to me!" 



VARIOUS NATIONAL HOLIDAYS. 



i8i 



"Oh! follow me, follow me!" soft he 
cried — 

And up through the chimney with him 
I mounted, not daring to utter a word 

Till we stood on the chimney's rim. 

"Now tell me, I beg you, dear Santa Claus, 
Where am I going with you?" 

He laughingly answered, "Why don't you 
know? 
To travel the wide world through! 

"From my crystal palace, far in the North, 
I have come since dark — and see 

These curious things for the little folk 
Who Hve on the Zuyder Zee.'' 

Then seating himself in his reindeer sledge, 
And drawing me down by his side, 

He whistled, and off on the wings of the 
wind 
We flew for our midnight ride. 

But first, such comical presents he left 
For the little Dutch girls and boys — 

Onions and sausages, wooden-faced dolls, 
Cheeses and gingerbread toys! 

Away we hurried far to the South, 
To the beautiful land of France; 

And there we showered the loveliest 
gifts,— 
Flaxen-haired dolls that could dance, 

Soldiers that marched at the word of com- 
mand, 



Necklaces, bracelets, and rings, 
Tiny gold watches, all studded with gems, 
And hundreds of exquisite things. 

Crossing the Channel, we made a short call 

In Scotland and Ireland, too; 
Left a warm greeting for England and 
Wales. 

Then over the ocean we flew 

Straight to America, where by myself. 

Perched on a chimney high, 
I watched him scramble and bustle about 

Between the earth and the sky. 

Many a stocking he filled to the brim, 
And numberless Christmas trees 

Burst into bloom at his magical touch! 
Then all of a sudden, a breeze 

Caught us and bore us away to the South, 
And afterward blew us "out West;" 

And never till dawn peeped over the hills 
Did we stop for a moment's rest. 

"Christmas is coming!" he whispered to 
me, 

"You can see his smile in the sky — 
I wish Merry Christmas to all the world! 

My work is over — good-bye!" 

Like a flash he was gone, and I was alone — 
For all of this happened to me 

Once on a time, in a queer httle town 
On the shore of the Zuyder Zee! 



"©^ 



HE GOT THE BEST OF OLD "SANTY." 



[F course," said Miltiades Peterkin 
Paul, 
On the day before Christmas, "I've no 

doubt at all 
It is Santa Claus who, every Christmas 

eve, brings 
The presents, and candy, and all the nice 
things 



Which I find in my stocking; and, doubt- 
less, 'tis true 

That he drives six fleet reindeers and comes 
down the flue. 

But I should like to see him ! Perhaps, too, 
I might, 

If I sat up and kept a sharp lookout to- 
night." 



VARIOUS NATIONAL HOLIDAYS. 



183 



"But that never would do," explained John 

Henry Jack; 
"He would turn straight around, and 

would never come back. 
For you see, the old gentleman's taken a 

whim 
That not one of you children shall catch 

sight of him. 
If he came to the house and found one 

single eye 
Remained open, he'd whip up and gallop 

straight by." 
"Nevertheless," thought Miltiades Peter- 
kin Paul, 
"I think / shall see him to-night, after all." 

So that night, after bedtime, when in the 

house all 
Was quite still, young Miltiades Peterkin 

Paul 
Softly stepped from his bedroom, and, 

stealthily creeping 
Past the door where his father and mother 

were sleeping. 
Stole down to the sitting room, where, you 

must know. 
He had hung by the mantel, an hour ago, 
Both his new scarlet stockings. "Ho! ho!" 

chuckled he, 
"Now we'll see, Mr. Santa Claus, what we 

shall see!" 

Then, from where he had hidden it, under 

the carpet. 
He drew out a steel trap (not really so sharp 

it 
Could do serious harm); and, with sang 

froid quite shocking, 
He set it, and placed it deep down in his 

stocking. 
So that Santa Claus, when he inserted his 

fist. 
Would find himself caught and held fast by 

the wrist. 



"There!" said little Miltiades Peterkin 

Paul, 

"If that doesn't fix him I'll eat it— that's 

all!" 

Then little Miltiades Peterkin Paul, 
Having made these arrangements, crept 

back through the hall. 
And up into bed again. "Now, then!" he 

thought, 
"I'll just lie still and wait till the old fellow's 

caught, 
Then I'll hurry down stairs in an instant 

and free him. 
Ho! ho! ho! we'll soon know if a body 

may see him. 
He will find in my sock, when he puts his 

hand in it, 
A warm grip that will not let him loose in 

a minute! 

"But, be careful, Miltiades Peterkin Paul," 
He presently added. "It won't do to fall 
Fast asleep at your post." Yet he hardly 

had spoken 
When he sank back in slumber. Then 

silence unbroken 
Reigned supreme for an hour in Farmer 

Gray's dwelling. 
At the end of that time such an unearthly 

yelling 
And howling broke in on the stillness of 

night 
That the whole household woke in a panic 

of fright! 

"Oho!" cried Miltiades Peterkin Paul, 
As he started upright, "the old fellow can 

bawl! 
Why, at this rate, he'll wake the whole 

house from its nap! 
I'll go down and release him at once from 

the trap." 
So he bounced out of bed and ran down in 

a jiffy; 



1 84 



VARIOUS NATIONAL HOLIDAYS. 



Then, arrived at the threshold, he stopped 

short, as if he 
Were struck by a thunderboh. Well, too, 

he might. 
For he certainly saw an astonishing sight. 
It was not Santa Clans (as before this you 

all 
May have guessed) that Miltiades Peterkin 

Paul 
Beheld — but his grandfather dancing 

about. 



And calling for some one to come help him 

out. 
"Oho!" cried our hero, beginning to see 
At length who old Santa Claus really must 

be. 
Was it von, after all, had a hand in it. 



pray 



?" 



"I should think that it zvas!" answered 
Grandfather Gray. 

— John Broivnjohn. 



TO A CHRISTMAS PUDDING. 



©RB from a chaos of good things 
evolved, 
Rounded, while plastic, in a tightened rag; 
Globe whose creation's not in doubt in- 
volved. 
Whose mould and matrix was a pudding 
bag, 
No sphere of which astronomy can brag 
Compares with thine. Perchance the sun 
may be 
A world half fire, half scoria and slag. 
Or it may not: what is the sun to me. 
Since for my system's center I have thee? 



I know thy "elements," — when mixed and 
how — 
Work of a culinary Providence. 
Methinks I see the raw materials now, 

Fluid and solid, to a batter dense 
Turned by the cook's "supreme intelli- 
gence." 
Such was thy origin. Upon my life, 
In thy concoction there was common-sense. 
Toward thee I yearn, thou orb with rich- 
ness rife, 
"Planned, ordered, and perfected" by my 
wife. 



ALL SORTS OF HUMOR. 



'ti)^ ANADA has produced very great 
humorists. Judge Haliburton and 
his "Sam Slick" stories stand almost alone. 
However, the Canadians appreciate humor 
of all kinds, and are a cheerful people gen- 
erally. Evidences of this are to be found 
in many of the speeches of her public men 
and in her daily newspapers. Their wit is 



not so heavy as the British and not so 
rough as the American. Canada, however, 
depends upon such publications as Punch, 
Puck, Judge, and Life to supply her with 
humor, and has no "funny paper" of her 
own. "Grip" was published for many years 
under the editorship of J. W. Bengough, 
but finally succumbed to financial stress. 



HOW CANADA WAS DISCOVERED. 



1^^ HE following is an extract from a 
^Yf humorous address delivered before 
the New York Canadian club by J. W. 
Bengough, editor of Grip: 



Canada is the name given to the greater 
portion of the continent of North America, 
and politically it is an integral portion of 
the British Empire. I mention this because 



1 86 



ALL SORTS OF HUMOR. 



there is an impression prevailing in Ohio 
and some other foreign countries that 
Canada is owned by a railway syndicate. 
This is a mistake. Nominally Canada be- 
longs to Great Britain, it contributes the 
adjective to the title, as Britain itself is only 
a small afifaif , but really and practically the 
vast Dominion is owned and run by the 
handsome and picturesque people so well 
represented in blanket suits on the present 
occasion. (Alluding to the uniformed snow- 
shoers ranged upon the platform.) I may 
just remark here, en passong, as they say 
in Montreal, that the Canadian people 
when at home, invariably dress in the cos- 
tume here shown, just as the people of New 
Jersey wear long-tailed coats and short 
breeches with straps to them, and bell- 
crowned beaver hats, with stars on their 
waistcoats and stripes on their pantaloons. 
It's the national costume, you know, but 
they rarely venture out of the country with 
such good clothes on. When a Canadian 
makes up his mind to settle in New York, 
he invariably adopts the New York style of 
dress. He changes his clothes at the bor- 
der, then he goes in like a regular Ameri- 
can, to Wall Street "born." Before long, 
so far as outward appearance goes, he 
would pass for a native New Yorker. 

Canada was discovered by Jacques 
Cartier, while engaged in a fishing cruise 
around the banks of New Foundland. 
From the banks of Canada would seem to 
be an unerring impulse of the human mind. 
It is not true, however, that Cartier is 
French for cashier, and time has fully vin- 
dicated this gentleman's character, as the 
banks of New Foundland are to-day as 
sound as ever. The coincidence was start- 
ling, it must be confessed, and we can 
therefore excuse the newspapers of the day 
for hinting that there was something fishy 
about his sudden departure. 

This event occurred some time after 



Christopher Columbus had got in his work. 
And Columbus, by the way, as an illustra- 
tion of patience and perseverance is worthy 
even of the study of those good Democratic 
statesmen who are waiting for Cleveland to 
"turn the rascals out." I don't know what 
Columbus looked like, but I feel sure that 
upon his countenance was stamped a calm, 
tranquil expression that no delays and dis- 
couragements could change. 

Consider what Chris had to go through 
before he got started on that memorable 
voyage to India. It took him just twenty 
years to get started. Now, if it had been 
that he had to wait for Mrs. C. to get 
dressed we wouldn't have wondered so 
much. But the trouble wasn't of that kind; 
it was purely financial. He couldn't sail 
without raising the wind, and mark his 
wonderful patience in raising it. Twenty 
years! The trouble was nobody believed 
in his scheme as sound and in the public 
interest. If it had been a surface-line fran- 
chise he was after he might have con- 
vinced the Aldermen, but Christopher 
wasn't Sharp. It never occurred to him to 
get the ladies of the congregation to go 
around with the book, though as a matter 
of fact he succeeded at last by the aid of a 
lady, Queen Isabella of Castile, whose 
name is to this day a sweet smelling savor, 
embalmed in an immortal kind of soap, 
"Matchless for the complexion. — Yours 
truly, Lily Langtry." 

Columbus went from court to court after 
the boodle; it's a way boodlers have of. go- 
ing from court to court, if you notice — and 
at last he found a friend in Ferdinand. 
Ferdinand had a lot of the proceeds salted 
down, as was generally suspected, and he 
gave Columbus a cheque for the required 
amount, remarking, "Go West, young man, 
and grow up with the country." Thus was 
patience rewarded. The voyage was a se- 
vere one. Everybody was sick of it and 



ALL SORTS OF HUMOR. 



187 



mutinied. Columbus stood on the quarter- 
deck with his guitar and sang- to the moon 
about everything being at sixes and sevens. 
A bird ahghted on the topmast! Omen of 
success. Land must be nigh. With one 
rapid glance the piercing eye of Colum- 
bus seizes the happy portent. The fact 
that it was an eagle proved that land must 
be near; while the shield of stars and bars 
upon its breast, the Canada codfish falling 
from its talons, the ninety-cent dollar hang- 
ing from its neck, and finally its piercing 
cry of E Pluribus Unum proved that that 
land could be no other than America, where 
all men are born free and equal, but don't 
stay so. America was discovered; no 
longer could it bashfully avoid the gaze of 
the other nations, and it doesn't. 

Columbus' work made a boom in the dis- 
covery business, and that's how Cartier 
happened to be around in time to discover 
Canada. Cartier was a Frenchman, and he 
handed over the country to the King of 
France, as a matter of course. This one 
action is enough to show that Cartier had 
no connection with the Standard Oil Com- 
pany, but his simplicity in giving away the 
country when he might have kept it him- 
self has modified Mr. Gould's opinion of 
his otherwise admirable character. This 
was the first time Canada was given away. 
The ofTense was repeated, Fve heard, at the 
time of the Washington treaty. Public 
opinion over there is opposed to this, as a 



regular thing, and at present there is a 
disposition to conserve the public interests, 
as it were. 

When Mr. Cartier first landed in Canada 
there were Indians there. I do not wish 
to pose as a sensationalist, nor to rudely 
upset your settled convictions for the mere 
purpose of startling you, but I do allege 
that there were more Indians in Canada 
then than there are now. Several more. In 
fact, the majority of the present inhabitants 
are white, though President Cleveland 
seems to think our Government doesn't 
act that way. The fact is the Indians are 
comparatively scarce now. They don't any 
longer pitch their tents in the main streets 
of Toronto, Montreal and Quebec. Most 
of them have been killed, though they all 
persist, the survivors, in playing lacrosse. 
Had football, I mean the Yale and And- 
over variety, been known amongst them 
the race would no doubt have been ex- 
tinct. Then politics has no doubt helped 
to exterminate the red man. An Indian 
can eat most anything, but he must have 
pure air, and when the party caucus was 
established in Canada the Indians had to 
go further back. You never find any In- 
dians in the lobby at Ottawa. They couldn't 
stand it. 

These white men were honest French 
voyagers, but there are probably sixty of 
the other fellows in Quebec to-day. Such 
is progress and civilization. 



MR. CAUDLE'S SECOND WIFE. 




HEN Harry Prettyman saw the 
very superb funeral of Mrs. Cau- 
dle, — Prettyman attended as mourner, and 
was particularly jolly in the coach, — he 
observed that the disconsolate widower 
showed, that, above all men, he knew how 
to make the best of a bad barsfain. The 



remark, as the dear deceased would have 
said, was unmanly, brutal, but quite like the 
Prettyman. The same scofifer, when Caudle 
declared "he should never cease to weep," 
replied "he was very sorry to hear it; for 
it must raise the price of onions." It was not 
enough to help to break the heart of a 



ALL SORTS OF HUMOR. 



wife; no, the savage must joke over its 
precious pieces,. 

The funeral, we repeat, was remarkably 
handsome ; in Prettyman's words, noth- 
ing could be more satisfactory. Caudle 
spoke of a monument. Whereupon Pretty- 
man suggested "Death gathering a nettle." 
Caudle — the act did equal honor to his brain 
and his bosom — rejected it. 

Mr. Caudle, attended by many of his 
friends, returned to his widowed home in 
tolerable spirits. Prettyman said jocosely 
poking his two fingers in Caudle's ribs, that 
in a week he'd look "quite like a tulip.'' 
Caudle merely replied, he could hardly hope 
it. 

Prettyman's mirth, however, communi- 
cated itself to the company; and in a very 
little time the meeting took the air of a 
very pleasant party. Somehow, Miss Pret- 
tyman presided at the table. There was in 
her manner a charming mixture of grace, 
dignity and confidence, — a beautiful black 
swan. Prettyman, by the way, whispered 
to a friend, that there was just this differ- 
ence between Mrs. Caudle and his sister, — 
"Mrs. Caudle was a great goose, whereas 
Sarah was a little duck." We will not 
swear that Caudle did not overhear the 
words ; for, as he resignedly stirred his tea, 
he looked at the lady at the head of the 
table, smiled and sighed. 

It was odd ; but women are so apt ! Miss 
Prettyman seemed as familiar with Caudle's 
silver tea-pot as with her own silver thim- 
ble. With a smile upon her face — like the 
butter on the muffins — she handed Caudle 
his tea-cup. Caudle would, now and then, 
abstractedly cast his eyes above the mantel- 
piece. There was Mrs. Caudle's portrait. 
Whereupon Miss Prettyman would say, 
"You must take comfort, Mr. Caudle, in- 
deed you must." At length Mr. Caudle re- 
plied, "I will. Miss Prettyman." 

What then passed through Caudle's brain 



we know not; but this we know; in a 
twelvemonth and a week from that day, 
Sarah Prettyman was Caudle's second wife, 
— Mrs. Caudle number two. Poor thing! 

(Mr. Caudle has his revenge.) 

"It is rather extraordinary, Mrs. Caudle, 
that we have now been married four weeks, 
— I don't exactly see what you have to sigh 
about, — and yet you can't make me a proper 
cup of tea. However, I don't know how I 
should expect it. There never was but one 
woman who could make tea to my taste, and 
she is now in heaven. Now, Mrs. Caudle, 
let me hear no crying. I'm not one of the 
people to be melted by the tears of a woman ; 
for you can all cry — all of you — at a min- 
ute's notice. The water's always laid on, 
and down it comes if a man only holds up 
his finger. 

"You didn't think I could be so brutal? 
That's it. Let a man only speak, and he's 
brutal. It's a woman's first duty to make a 
decent cup of tea. What do you think I 
married you for? It's all very well with 
your tambour-work and such trumpery. 
You can make butterflies on kettle-holders ; 
but can you make a pudding, ma'am? I'll 
be bound not. 

"Of course, as usual, you've given me 
the corner roll, because you know I hate 
a corner roll. I did think you must have 
seen that. I did hope I should not be 
obliged to speak on so paltry a subject ; but 
it's no use to hope to be mild with you. I 
see that's hopeless. 

"And what a herring ! And you call it a 
bloater, I suppose ? Ha ! there was a wo- 
man who had an eye for a bloater, but — 
sainted creature ! — she's here no longer. 
You wish she was ? Oh, I understand that. 
I'm sure, if anybody should wish her back, 
it's — but she was too good for me. 'When 
I'm gone, Caudle,' she used to say, 'then 




WILLIAM E. MASON, of Illinois, 
life, and he never lacks for an audience. 



is one of the most attractive speakers in public 
In the Senate he made himself prominent by his 
advocacy of freedom for the Cubans, this being some time before this country had any 
idea whatever of interfering or going to war with Spain; later, he introduced a resolution 
of sympathy with the Boers into the Senate while the burghers of the South African Re- 
public were fighting with the British, and delivered a most impassioned address. He was 
born in Franklinville, Cattaraugus County, N. Y., in 1850, and removed to Iowa in 1858; 
attended Birmingham College, taught school, studied law and was admitted to the bar; 
located in Chicago in 1873, was elected to the Fiftieth and Fifty-first Congresses and chosen 
Senator in 1897. 



190 



ALL SORTS OF HUMOR. 



you'll know the wife I was to you.' And 
now I do know it. 

"Here's the eggs boiled to a stone again! 
Do yon think, Mrs. Caudle, I'm a canary- 
bird, to be fed upon hard eggs ? Don't tell 
me about the servant. A wife is answer- 
able to her husband for her servants. It's 
her business to hire proper people: if she 
doesn't, she's not fit to be a wife. I find 
the money, Mrs. Caudle, and I expect you 
to find the cookery. 

"There you are with your pocket-hand- 
kerchief again, — the old flag of truce ; but 
it doesn't trick me. A pretty honeymoon? 
Nonsense ! People can't have two honey- 
moons in their lives. There are feelings — 
I find it now — that we can't have twice in 



our existence. There's no making honey a 
second time. 

"No : I think I've put up with your neg- 
lect long enough: and there's nothing like 
beginning as we intend to go on. There- 
fore, Mrs. Caudle, if my tea isn't made a 
little more to my liking to-morrow — and if 
you insult me with a herring like that — 
and boil my eggs that you might fire 'em out 
of guns — why, perhaps, Mrs. Caudle, you 
may see a man in a passion. It takes a 
good deal to rouse me, but when I am up — 
I say, when I am up — that's all. 

"Where did I put my gloves ? You don't 
know? Of course not; you know noth- 
ing." 

— Douglas Jerrold. 



"GONE WITH A HANDSOMER MAN." 

John. 



f? VE worked in the field all day, a-plow- 
in' the "stony streak"; 
I've scolded my team till I'm hoarse; 
I've tramped till my legs are weak ; 
I've choked a dozen swears (so's not to 

tell Jane fibs), 
When the plow-pint struck a stone, and the 
handles punched my ribs. 

I've put my team in the barn, and rubbed 

their sweaty coats ; 
I've fed 'em a heap of hay and a half a 

bushel of oats ; 
And to see the way they eat makes me like 

eatin' feel, 
And Jane won't say to-night that I don't 

make out a meal. 

Well said! the door is locked! but here 

she's left the key. 
Under the step, in a place known only to 

her and me ; 
I wonder who's dyin' or dead, that she's 

hustled off pell-mell; 



But here on the table's a note, and probably 
this will tell. 

Good God ! my wife is gone ! my wife is 
gone astray ! 

The letter it says, "Good-bye, for I'm going 
away ; 

I've lived with you six months, John, and 
so far I've been true ; 

But I'm going away to-day with a hand- 
somer man than you." 

A han'somer man than me ! Why, that 

ain't much to say ; 
There's han'somer men than me go past 

here every day. 
There's han'somer men than me — I ain't 

of the han'some kind ; 
But a lovener man than I was, I guess she'll 

never find. 

And when her face grows pale, and when 

her eyes grow dim, 
And when he is tired of her and she is tired 

of him. 



ALL SORTS. OF HUMOR. 



191 



She'll do what she ought to have done, and 

coolly count the cost ; 
And then she'll see things clear, and know 

what she has lost. 

And thoughts that are now asleep will wake 

up in her mind^ 
And she will mourn and cry for what she 

has left behind ; 
And maybe she'll sometimes long for me — 

for me — but no ! 
I've blotted her out of my heart, and I will 

not have it so. 

And yet in her girlish heart there was some- 
thin' or other she had 

That fastened a man to her, and wasn't en- 
tirely bad ; 

And she loved me a little, I think, although 
it didn't last ; 

But I mustn't think of these things — I've 
buried 'em in the past. 

I'll take my hard words back, nor make a 

bad matter worse ; 
She'll have trouble enough; she shall not 

have my curse ; 
But I'll live a life so square — and I well 

know that I can — 
That she always will sorry be that she went 

with that han'somer man. 

Ah, here is her kitchen dress ! It makes 

my poor eyes blur ; 
It seems when I look at that, as if 'twas 

holdin' her. 
And here are her week-day shoes, and there 

is her week-day hat, 
And yonder's her weddin' gown ; I wonder 

she didn't take that. 

'Twas only this mornin' she came and 
called me her "dearest dear," 

And said I was makin' for her a regular 
paradise here; 



God ! if you want a man to sense the pains 

of hell. 
Before you pitch him in just keep him in 
heaven a spell ! 

Good-bye I wish that death had severed 

us two apart. 
You've lost a worshiper here, you've 

crushed a lovin' heart. 
I'll worship no woman again; but I guess 

I'll learn to pray. 
And kneel as you used to do before you 

ran away. 

And if I thought I could bring my words 

on heaven to bear, 
And if I thought I had some little influence 

there, 

1 would pray that I might be, if it only 

could be so. 
As happy and gay as I was a half hour ago. 

Jane (entering). 

Why, John, what a litter here! you've 

thrown things all around ! 
Come, what's the matter now? and what 

have you lost or found? 
And here's my father here, a-waiting for 

supper, too ; 
I've been a-riding with him — he's that 

"handsomer man than you." 

Ha! ha! Pa, take a seat, while I put the 

kettle on. 
And get things ready for tea, and kiss my 

dear old John. 
Why, John, you look so strange ! Come, 

what has crossed your track? 
I was only a-joking, you know; I'm willing 

to take it back. [Exit. 

John. 

Well, now, if this am't a joke, with rather 
a bitter cream ! 



ALL SORT'S OF HUMOR. 



193 



It seems as if I'd woke from a mighty tick- 
lish dream; 

And I think she "smells a rat," for she 
smiles at me so queer, 

I hope she don't ; good gracious ! I hope 
that they didn't hear ! 



'Twas one of her practical drives 
thought I'd understand ! 



she 



But I'll never break sod again till I get 
the lay of the land. 

But one thing's settled with me — to ap- 
preciate heaven well, 

'Tis good for a man to have some fifteen 
minutes of hell. 



— Will Carlcton. 



THE SWEET GIRL ON THE WIRE. 



CONSIDER that a conversation by 
telephone — when you are simply sit- 
ting by and not taking any part in that con- 
versation — is one of the solemnest curiosi- 
ties of this modern life. 

Yesterday I was writing a deep article 
on a sublime philosophical subject while 
such a conversation was going on in the 
next room. I notice that one can always 
write best when somebody is talking 
through a telephone close by. Well, the 
thing began in this way. A member of 
our household came in and asked me to 
have our house put into communication 
with Mr. Bagley's down town. I have 
observed, in many cities, that the gentle 
sex always shrink from calling up the Cen- 
tral Office themselves. I don't know why, 
but they do. So I rang the bell, and this 
talk ensued: 

Central office. — "What-number-do-you- 
want?" 

I.— "Main 24-68." 
C. O.— "Main 2-4-6-3?" 
I.— "No, 2-4-6-8." 

Then I heard a k-look, k-Iook, k-Iook — 
klook-klook-klook-look-look ! Then a hor- 
rible "gritting" of teeth, and finally a piping 
voice: 

"Hello?" (rising inflection). 
I.— "Hello, is this Mr. Bagley's?" 
"Yes, did you wish to speak to me?" 
Without answering, I handed the re- 
ceiver to the applicant, and sat down. Then 



followed the queerest of all things in the 
world — a conversation with only one end 
to it. You hear questions asked; you don't 
hear the answer. You hear invitations 
given; you hear no thanks in return. You 
have listening pauses of dead silence, fol- 
lowed by apparently irrelevant and unjus- 
tifiable exclamations of glad surprise, or 
sorrow or dismay. You can't make head 
or tail out of the talk, because you never 
hear anything that the person at the other 
end of the wire says. Well, I heard the fol- 
lowing series of remarkable observations, 
all from the one tongue, and all shouted,' 
—for you can't ever persuade the gentle 
sex to speak gently into a telephone: 

■'Hello, is that you, Daisy?" 

Pause. 

"Yes. Why, how did that happen?" 
Pause. 

"What did you say?" 
Pause. 

"Oh, no, I don't think it was." 
Pause. 

"No! Oh, no, I didn't mean that. I did 
think of getting it, but I don't believe it 
will stay in style, and— what?— and Chariie 
just hates that shade of blue, anyway." 
Pause. 

"What's that?" 
Pause. 

"You wouldn't let him dictate to yon, 
at least before you were married?" 
Pause. 



194 



ALL SORTS OF HUMOR. 



"Why, my dear, !iow childish! You don't 
suppose Fd let him afterwards, do you?" 
Pause. 

"I turned it over with a back-stitch on 
the selvage edge." 
Pause, 

"Yes, I like that way, too; but I think 
it better to baste it on with Valenciennes, 
or something of that kind. It gives such 
an air." 

Pause. 

"Yes, you know he did pay some atten- 
tion to Celia." 

Pause. 

"Why, she threw herself right at his 
head." 

Pause. 

"And he told me he always admired me." 

Pause. 

"Well, he said it seemed as if he never 
could get anybody to introduce him." 

Pause. 

"Perhaps so; I generally use a hairpin." 

"What did you say?" (Aside) "Children, 
do be quiet!" 

Pause. 

"Oh! B flat! Dear me, I thought you 
said it was the cat!" 

Pause. 

"Since when?" 

Pause. 

"Why, I never heard of it." 

Pause. 

"You astound me! It seems utterly im- 
possible!" 

Pause. 

"Who did?" 

Pause. 

"Goodness gracious!" 

Pause. 

"Well, what is the world coming to? 
Was it right in church?" 

Pause. 

"And was her mother there?*'* 

Pause. 



"Why, Daisy, I should have died of hu- 
miliation! What did they do?" 
Long pause. 

"I can't be perfectly sure, because I 
haven't the notes by me; but I think it 
goes something like this: To-tolly-loll-loll- 
lee-ly-li-i-do! And then repeat, you know." 

Pause. 

"Yes, I think it is very sweet — and very 
solemn and impressive, if you get the an- 
dantino and the pianissimo right." 

Pause. 

"Did he really say that?" 

Pause. 

"Yes, I do care for him — what? — but 
mind you don't tell him, I don't want him 
to know it." 

Pause. 

"What?" 

Pause. 

"Oh, not in the least — go right on. 
Papa's here, writing, — it doesn't bother 
him." 

Pause. 

"Very well, I'll come if I can." (Aside) 
"Dear me, papa, how it does tire a person's 
arm to hold this thing up so long! I wish 
she'd " 

Pause. . 

"Oh, no, not at all; I like to talk — but 
I'm afraid I'm keeping you from your 
affairs." 

Pause. 

"Visitors?" 

Pause. 

"No, we never use butter on them." 

Pause. 

"Yes, that is a very good way; but all 
the cook-books say they are very unhealthy 
when they are out of season. And papa 
doesn't like them, anyway, — especially 
canned." 

Pause. 

"Yes, I'm going to the concert with him 
to-night." 



ALL SORTS OF HUMOR. 



195 



Pause. 

"Engaged? why, certainly noto" 

Pause. 

"You know, dear, you'd be the very first 
one I'd tell." 

Pause. 

"No, we really are not engaged." 

Pause. 

"Must you go? Well, good-bye." 

Pause. 

"Yes, I think so. Good-bye." 

Pause. 

"Four o'clock, then — I'll be ready. Can 
Charlie meet us then?" 



Pause. 

"Oh, that's good. Good-bye." 

Pause. 

"Thank you ever so much. Good-bye." 

Pause. 

"Oh, not at all! Just as fresh— which?" 

Pause. 

"Oh, I'm glad to hear that. Good-bye." 

(Hangs up the receiver and says: "Oh, 
it does tire a person's arm so.") 

A man delivers a single brutal "Good- 
bye," and that is the end of it. Not so with 
the gentle sex— I say it in their praise, they 
cannot abide abruptness. 



TRIBUTE TO THE "OLD BOYS." 



©^ 



; LIVER WENDELL HOLMES was 
graduated from Harvard University 
in 1829, and more than a quarter of a cen- 
tury later he wrote the following poem, 
which was read at a class reunion : 
Has there any old fellow got mixed with 

the boys? 
If there has, take him out, without making 

a noise. 
Hang the almanac's cheat and the cata- 
logue's spite! 
Old Time is a liar! we're twenty to-night! 

We're twenty! We're twenty! Who says 

we are more? 
He's tipsy, — young jackanapes! — show him 

the door! 
"Gray temples at twenty?" — Yes! white if 

we please; 
Where the snow-flakes fall thickest there's 

nothing can freeze! 

Was it snowing I spoke of? Excuse the 

mistake! 
Look close, — you will see not a sign of a 

flake! 
We want some new garlands for those we 

have shed, 



And these are white roses in place of the 
red. 

We've a trick, we young fellows, you may 

have been told, 
Of talking (in public) as if we were old; 
That boy we call "Doctor," and this we 

call "Judge;" 
It's a neat little fiction,— of course it's all 

fudge. 

That fellow's the "Speaker," the one on the 

right; 
"Mr. Mayor," my young one, how are you 

to-night? 
That's our "Member of Congress," we say 

when we chaff; 
There's the "Reverend"— what's his name? 

— don't make me laugh. 

That boy with the grave mathematical look 
Made believe he had written a wonderful 

book, 
And the Royal Society thought it was true! 
So they chose him right in, — a good joke 

it was too. 

There's a boy, we pretend, with a three- 
decker brain, 



19^ 



ALL SORTS OF HUMOR. 



That could harness a team with a logical 
chain ; 

When he spoke for our manhood in sylla- 
bled fire, 

We called him "The Justice," but now he's 
the "Squire." 

And there's a nice youngster of excellent 

pith; 
Fate tried to conceal him by naming him 

Smith; 
But he shouted a song for the brave and 

the free, — 
Just read on his medal, "My country," "of 

thee!" 

You hear that boy laughing? You think 

he's all fun; 
But the angels laugh, too, at the good he 

has done; 
The children laugh loud as they troop to 

his call, 



And the poor man that knows him laughs 
loudest of all! 



Yes, we're boys, — always playing with 

tongue or with pen; 
And I sometimes have asked, Shall we ever 

be men? 
Shall we always be youthful, and laughing, 

and gay, 
Till the last dear companion drops smiling 

away? 

Then here's to our boyhood, its gold and 
its gray! 

The stars of its winter, the dews of its May ! 

And when w^e have done with our life-last- 
ing toys, 

Dear Father, take care of thy children, 
The Boys! 

— O. W. Holmes. 



THE BABY'S FIRST TOOTR 



R. and Mrs. Jones had just finished 
their breakfast. Mr. Jones had 
pushed back his chair and was looking 
under the lounge for his boots. Mrs. Jones 
sat at the table, holding the infant Jones 
and mechanically working her forefinger 
in its mouth. Suddenly she paused in the 
motion, threw the astonished child on its 
back, turned as white as a sheet, pried 
open its mouth, and immediately gasped 
"Ephraim!" 

Mr. Jones, who was yet on his knees 
with his head under the lounge, at once 
came forth, rapping his head sharply on 
the side of the lounge as he did so, and, 
getting on his feet, inquired what was the 
matter. 

"O Ephraim," said she, the tears rolling 
down her cheeks and the smiles coursing 



up. 



"Why, what is it, Aramathea?" asked 



the astonished Mr. Jones, smartly rubbing 
his head where it had come in contact with 
the lounge. 

"Baby!" she gasped. 

Mr. Jones turned pale and commenced 
to sweat. 

"Baby! O, O, O Ephraim! Baby has 
— baby has got — a little toothey, oh, oh!" 

"No!" screamed Mr. Jones, spreading 
his legs apart, dropping his chin and star- 
ing at the struggling heir with all his 
might. 

"I tell you it is," persisted Mrs. Jones, 
with a slight evidence of hysteria. 

"Oh, it can't be!" protested Mr. Jones, 
preparing to swear if it wasn't. 

"Come here and see for yourself," said 
Mrs. Jones. "Open its 'ittle mousy-wousy 
for its own muzzer; that's a toody-woody; 
that's a blessed 'ittle 'ump o' sugar." 

Thus conjured, the heir opened its mouth 



198 



ALL SORTS OF HUMOR. 



sufficiently for the father to thrust in his 
finger, and that gentleman having con- 
vinced himself by the most unmistakable 
evidence that a tooth was there, immediate- 
ly kicked his hat across the room, buried 
his fist in the lounge, and declared with 
much feeling that he could lick the indi- 
vidual who would dare to intimate that he 
was not the happiest man on the face of the 
earth. Then he gave Mrs. Jones a hearty 
smack on the mouth and snatched up the 
heir, while that lady rushed tremblingly 
forth after Mrs. Simmons, who lived next 
door. 

In a moment Mrs. Simmons came tear- 
ing in as if she had been shot out of a gun, 
and right behind her came Miss Simmons 
at a speed that indicated that she had been 
ejected from two guns. 



Mrs. Simmons at once snatched the heir 
from the arms of Mr. Jones and hurried it 
to the window, where she made a careful 
and critical examination of its mouth, 
while Mrs. Jones held its head and Mr. 
Jones danced up and down the room, and 
snapped his fingers to show how calm he 
was. 

It having been ascertained by Mrs. 
Simmons that the tooth was a sound one, 
and also that the strongest hopes for its 
future could be entertained on account of 
its coming in the new of the moon, Mrs. 
Jones got out the necessary material and 
Mr. Jones at once proceeded to write seven 
different letters to as many persons, unfold- 
ing to them the event of the morning and 
inviting them to come on as soon as 
possible. 



HAVING FUN WITH EUROPEAN GUIDES. 



UROPEAN guides know about 
__ enough English to tangle every- 
thing up so that a man can make neither 
head nor tail of it. They know their story 
by heart,— the history of every statue, 
painting, cathedral, or other wonder they 
show you. They know it and tell it as a 
parrot would,— and if you interrupt and 
throw them ofif the track, they have to go 
back and begin over again. All their lives 
long they are employed in showing strange 
things to foreigners and listening to their 
bursts of admiration. 

It is human nature to take delight in ex- 
citing admiration. It is what prompts chil- 
dren to say "smart" things and do absurd 
ones, and in other ways "show ofif" when 
company is present. It is what makes 
gossips turn out in rain and storm to go 
and be the first to tell a startling bit of 
news. Think, then, what a passion it be- 
comes with a guide, whose privilege it is, 
every day, to show to strangers wonders 



that throw them into perfect ecstasies of 
admiration! He gets so that he could not 
by any possibility live in a soberer atmos- 
phere. 

After we discovered this, we never went 
into ecstasies any more, — we* never ad- 
mired anything, — we never showed any but 
impassible faces and stupid indifference in 
the presence of the sublimest wonders a 
guide had to display. We had found their 
weak point. We have made good use of 
it ever since. We have made some, of those 
people savage at times, but we have never 
lost our serenity. 

The doctor asks the questions generally, 
because he can keep his countenance, and 
look more like an inspired idiot, and throw 
more imbecility into the tone of his voice 
than any man that lives. It comes natural 
to him. 

The guides in Genoa are delighted to 
secure an American party, because Amer- 
icans so much wonder, and deal so much 



ALL SORTS OF HUMOR. 



199 



in sentiment and emotion before any relic 
of Columbus. Our guide there fidgeted 
about as if he had swallowed a spring mat- 
tress. He was full of animation, — full of 
impatience. He said: — 

"Come wis me, genteelmen! — come! I 
show you ze letter writing by Christopher 
Colombo! — write it himself! — write it wis 
his own hand! — come!" 

He took us to the municipal palace. 
After much impressive fumbling of keys 
and opening of locks, the stained and aged 
document was spread before us. The 
guide's eyes sparkled. He danced about 
us and tapped the parchment with his 
finger: — 

"What I tell you, genteelmen! Is it not 
so? See! handwriting Christopher Colom- 
bo! — write it himself!" 

We looked indifferent, — unconcerned. 
The doctor examined the document very 
deliberately, during a painful pause. Then 
he said, without any show of interest, — 

"Ah, — Ferguson, — what — what did you 
say was the name of the party who wrote 
this?" 

"Christopher Colombo! ze great Chris- 
topher Colombo!" 

Another deliberate examination. 
"Ah, — did he write it himself, or, — or 
how?" 

"He write it himself! — Christopher Co- 
lombo! he's own handwriting, write by 
himself!" 

Then the doctor laid the document down 
and said, — 

"Why, I have seen boys in America only 
fourteen years old that could write better 
than that." 

"But zis is ze great Christo " 

"I don't care who it is! It's the worst 
writing I ever saw. Now you mustn't 
think you can impose on us because we are 
strangers. We are not fools, by a good 
deal. If you have got any specimens of 



penmanship of real merit, trot them out! — 
and if you haven't, drive on!" 

We drove on. The guide was consider- 
ably shaken up, but he made one more 
venture. He had something which he 
thought would overcome us. He said, — 

"Ah, genteelmen, you come wis us! I 
show you beautiful, oh, magnificent bust 
Christopher Colombo! — splendid, grand, 
magnificent!" 

He brought us before the beautiful bust, 
— for it zvas beautiful, — and sprang back 
and struck an attitude : — 

"Ah, look, genteelmen! — beautiful, 
grand, — bust Christopher Colombo!— 
beautiful bust, beautiful pedestal!" 

The doctor put up his eye-glass, — pro- 
cured for such occasions: — 

"Ah, — what did you say this gentleman's 
name was?" 

"Christopher Colombo! ze great Chris- 
topher Colombo!" 

"Christopher Colombo, — the great Chris- 
topher Colombo! Well, what did lie 
do?" 

"Discover America! — discover America 
— oh, ze diable!" 

"Discover America? No, — that state- 
ment will hardly wash. We are just from 
America ourselves. Christopher Colombo, 
— pleasant name, — is — is he dead?" 

"Oh, corpo di Baccho!— three hundred 
year!" 

"What did he die of?" 

"I do not know. I cannot tell." 

"Small-pox, think?" 

"I do not know, genteelmen, — I do not 
know zvhat he died of." 

"Measles, likely?" 

"Maybe, — maybe. I do not know, — I 
think he die of something." 
"Parents living?" 
"Im-posseeble!" 

"Ah, — which is the bust and which is the 
pedestal?" 



200 



ALL SORTS OF HUMOR. 



"Santa Maria ! — sis ze bust ! — ::is ze 
pedestal!" 

"Ah, I see, I see, — happy combination, — 
very happy combination, indeed. Is — is 
this the first time this gentleman was ever 
on a bust?" 

This joke was lost on the foreigner, — 
guides can not master the subtleties of the 
American joke. 

We have made it interesting for this 
Roman guide. Yesterday we spent three 
or four hours in the Vatican again, that 
wonderful world of curiosities. We came 
very near expressing interest sometimes, 
even admiration. It was hard to keep from 
it. We succeeded, though. Nobody else 
ever did in the Vatican museums. The 
guide was bewildered, nonplussed. He 
walked his legs ofif, nearly, huntmg up ex- 
traordinary things, and exhausted all his 
ingenuity on us, but it was a failure; we 
never showed any interest in anything. He 
had reserved what he considered to be his 
greatest wonder till the last, — a royal 
Egyptian mummy, the best preserved in 
the world, perhaps. He took us there. He 
felt so sure this time that some of his old 
enthusiasm came back to him: — 

"See, genteelmen! — Mummy! Mum- 
my!" 

The eye-glass came up as calmly, as de- 
liberately as ever. 

"Ah, — Ferguson, — what did I under- 
stand you to say the gentleman's name 
was?" 

"Name? — he got no name! — Mummy! 
— 'Gyptian mummy!" 



"Yes, yes. Born here?" 

"No. 'Gyptian mummy." 

"Ah, just so. Frenchman, I presume?" 

"No ! Not Frenchman, not Roman ! 
Born in Egypta!" 

"Born in Egypta. Never heard of 
Egypta before. Foreign locality, likely. 
Mummy, — mummy. How calm he is, how 
self-possessed! Is — ah! — is he dead?" 

"Oh, sacre bleu! been dead three thou- 
san' year!" 

The doctor turned on him savagely: — 

"Here, now, what do you mean by such 
conduct as this? Playing us for Chinamen, 
because we are strangers and trying to 
learn! Trying to impose your vile second- 
hand carcasses on iisf Thunder and light- 
ning! I've a notion to — to — if you've got 
a nice, fresh corpse fetch him out ! — or we'll 
brain you!" 

However, he has paid us back partly, and 
without knowing it. He came to the hotel 
this morning to ask if we were up, and he 
endeavored, as well as he could, to describe 
us, so that the landlord would know which 
persons he meant. He finished with the 
casual remark that we were lunatics. The 
observation was so innocent and so honest 
that it amounted to a very good thing for 
a guide to say. 

Our Roman Ferguson is the most pa- 
tient, unsuspecting, long-suffering subject 
we have had yet. We shall be sorry to part 
with him. We have enjoyed his society 
very much. We trust he has enjoyed ours, 
but we are harassed with doubts. — Mark 
Twain. 



WAIL OF THE OVERCOATLESS MAN. 



HE new and budding springtime was 
amending winter's scenes 
By tinting here and patching there with 

Nature's glowing greens; 
By throwing in a golden sun to add its 

warming light 



And nurture all that had escaped cold win- 
ter's deadly blight; 

By bringing southern breezes up to scent 
the sunny hours 

With perfume wafted from a clime of ever 
bursting flowers. 



ALL SORTS OF HUMOR. 



20 1 



'Twas then I seemed to dream and gone 
were winter's dreary dead. 

The brown, the sear, the yellow leaf be- 
neath spring's kiss were fled. 

There naught remained but dreamy bliss 
amid the perfumes rare, 

Nothing remained of worry, or of trouble, 
or of care. 

Nothing but dreams that soothed and lulled 
the weary and oppressed 

Upon the breast of nature in a soft and 
dreamy rest. 



And all the happy springtime dreamed I on 
in joyous mood 

Beneath the leafy bowers of a densely tan- 
gled wood; 

And all that glorious autumn — ah, how 
happy was my lot! 

Forever and anon I dreamed — I dreamed 
and wished for naught, 

But in the chill December I awoke with 
sudden shock 

To find, alas! my overcoat still unredeemed 
— in hock. 



REFLECTIONS OF "THE INSPIRED IDIOT." 



READ an article in a magazine about 
a young man's chances of success 
in life," said the Shoe Clerk, "and I was 
surprised to learn that they are better to- 
day than they were twenty-five or thirty 
years ago." 

"The magazines are printing a good 
many humorous features these days," re- 
sponded the Inspired Idiot. 

"But this was a serious article. It was 
written by .the president of one of the big- 
gest trusts in the country and he said he 
knew of half a dozen jobs paying from $10,- 
000 to $15,000 a year now vacant because 
there were no young men to fill them." 

"That's too bad," said the Inspired Idiot. 
"But it is just like the young men of to-day. 
They are not willing tg begin at a low sal- 
ary. I suppose the young fellows who were 
invited to take the positions wanted $20,000 
or $25,000 a year and a share of the rake- 
ofif when the crowd inside whipsawed the 
market. The young men of to-day are a 
cruel gang and would crush the^ tender 
neck of a trust under their iron heels. It is 
this feeling of indifference on the part of 
young men that is driving trusts from this 
country. It was not so when I was on earth 
the first time. We young men were willing 
to make a few sacrifices to help the trusts 



along. The question of a few thousand 
dollars on our salary cut no figure with us. 
If we found a trust struggling along on a 
measly capital of $100,000,000 we would ac- 
cept $10,000 or $15,000 a year and let it 
go at that. 



"Yes, the young men of to-day are driv- 
ing capital out of this country, and the time 
will come when they will be glad to work 
for $15,000, or even $10,000, a year. But 
it will be too late; the wage scale will be 
cut down and they will find other young 
men who will be tickled to death to get 
steady employment at $8,000 or $9,000. You 
can't expect a young man to give up his 
time for nothing, even to please a trust. 
Not that he cares a rap for the money, but 
it is the principle of the thing. Nor is it 
fair to condemn a trust because it is una- 
ble to pay living wages. 



"To prove the illimitable chances of suc- 
cess enjoyed by the young men of to-day it 
is only necessary to look about you. Sup- 
pose you were the best authority in the 
world on the production of oil and were 
tired of working for Rockefeller and wanted 
to go into business for yourself. Of course, 
if you didn't work for Rockefeller you 



202 



ALL SORTS OF HUMOR. 



would have to start for yourself if you 
wanted to fool around oil. You open an 
office, fitted up to beat the band, and have 
your name put on the door in gold letters. 
You have now arisen from a humble em- 
ploye of the oil trust to a dealer in oil your- 
self, thereby proving the absence of flies 
on a young man's chances. Then when 
you get the first order for a barrel of oil 
you call up Rockefeller and ask him if he 
will sell it to you. In about a week you will 
be wondering if your chances of selling out 
your office and getting your old job with 
Rockefeller are as good as your chances 
were of starting in business. 



"If you are of a financial turn of mind 
and aspire to be a banker your chances 
of success are brighter than a lead dollar. 
If you live long enough you may some day 
be the sixteenth assistant bookkeeper and 
if the bubonic plague should hit the bank 
you might eventually become acquainted 
with the fourth vice-president. The easiest 
and most direct way to success in this fine, 
however, is to take the bank's surplus and 
undivided profits and locate in South 
America. 



"This is a great world and there is as 
much difference in folks as there is in peo- 
ple. If the elevator of life goes to the top 
floor it is a success; if it gets balled up at 
the tenth and sticks there it is a failure. 

" 'There goes a man who is a success,' 
you say. 

" 'How much does he know?' I ask. 

" 'Enough to write his check for a mil- 
lion,' you answer. 

" 'Take the witness, that's our case,' I 
say, for you have thrown me out of court. 
Your client is a night-bloommg success. 

" 'There is an awful example of total fail- 
ure in life,' you say, pointing to another 
man. 



" 'Bankrupt?' I ask. 

" 'Worse. Professor of astronomy at fif- 
teen hundred a year.' 

" 'The poor wretch. Why don't they vag 
him?' 



"Adam's chances for a successful career 
were dazzling until the snake came in and 
cornered the apple market. It is an old 
saying that every man may aspire to be 
president, but nobody ever heard of more 
than one man at a time getting the salary 
for holding down the job. And Mr. Bryan 
will tell you that the chances of being presi- 
dent are not as good as they used to be. 



"When presidents of trusts write on the 
question of success they ought to define 
success. Jay Gould used to be called a suc- 
cessful man, but he was a fizzle alongside 
of Cornelius Vanderbilt. And Vanderbilt 
was only a floor-walker compared with 
John D. Rockefeller, who is a half-billion- 
aire. When John gets his success habit in 
thorough working order a young man will 
have to go to him for his chances to 
breathe. 



"The trouble with these success writers 
is that they write from the standpoint of 
the cash register. Most anybody would say 
that Greeley, Seward, Tilden, Blaine and 
Sherman were successful, but those men 
have confessed that their lives were fail- 
ures; their ambition was to be president, 
not of a trust, but of the United States. 
The Hon. Bath House John has risen from 
the rubbing table and shower to banker 
and poet; that beats being a trust presi- 
dent all hollow." 

"What do you think offers the best 
chances for success to young men?" asked 
the Shoe Clerk. 

"A trust has many advantages over a 
piece of lead pipe," said the Inspired Idiot. 



204 



ALL SORTS OF HUMOR. 



SHE IS NOW HEAD OF THE HOUSE. 




RS. BROWN has all the troubles 
that usually fall to the lot of a doc- 
tor's wife. She catches glimpses of her hus- 
band at irregular hours, she eats many of 
her meals in lonely state and she has to at- 
tend most parties in tow of some good-na- 
tured friends. 

A few weeks ago she made a vow that 
she would not go to another function this 
w'inter unless the doctor went with her, so 
when the Brainerds issued invitations to a 
duplicate whist party on December loth 
she told the doctor that he must go with 
her whatever happened. The doctor re- 
plied that he wanted to go just as much 
as she did and that the only possible thing 
that could prevent his presence was a very 
sick patient. "Well, there must not be any 
very sick patient," Mrs. Brown returned. 

After that she considered the matter as 
settled. The doctor was home early on the 
night of the party. He laid his dress suit 
out on the bed and was just looking up his 
pearl studs when the telephone bell rang. 
The heart of Mrs. Brown sunk, but she 
said. "Now, remember, you promised to 
go to the party whatever happened." 

The doctor was gone a long time. She 
could hear his voice raised in expostula- 
tion. He said repeatedly that he couldn't 
possibly do it, that his wife would never 
forgive him. At last he said: "Well, hold 
the wire while I go and speak to my wife." 

He re-entered the room, with his brow 
corrugated like an iron roof. "My dear," 
he said, "that pneumonia case of mine is a 
lot worse. I told Sammy to go there and 
he's just 'phoned me that we'll have to give 
oxygen and saline injections. He doesn't 
dare to undertake it without I'm there with 
him. Now, won't you go alone, just this 
once? You know I meant to go. See, 
there's my dress clothes all ready and I 
hurried home on purpose." 



Mrs. Brown sat down and let a few tears 
trickle down her nose. She vowed she 
would not go alone, "I'm tired of being 
just like a widow without the fun," she 
said. "I won't go without you." 

"Oh, come now," the doctor expostu- 
lated. "This is an unusual case. I'll just 
call a cab and you'll be all right. Besides, 
it's near Christmas and if you'll go without 
me I'll get you a pearl brooch. If you go 
and make my excuses to the Brainerds it 
will be all right, but if you stay away, too, 
they will never forgive us." 

So Mrs. Brown yielded and went alone to 
the card party. She was home when the 
doctor returned. He said that he was "dog 
tired" and that a physician's Hfe was "noth- 
ing but slavery without chains." Mrs. 
Brown really pitied him, for he looked 
completely fagged out and he was as hoarse 
as a crow. 

The next morning she noticed a bit of 
yellow pasteboard on the floor of the hall. 
She picked it up. It was just a torn bit of 
a seat check, but she noticed that it was of 
the yesterday's date and said, "Balcony, 
Dec. 10." She wondered how it came to be 
in her hall. The more she thought it over 
the more suspicious she became. The hall 
had been swept the day before. There had 
been no one in yesterday, either. The seat 
check must either have been dropped by 
the cook or the doctor. She called Katie. 
"Were you at the theater last night?" 

"Oh, no, ma'am," Katie answered. "I 
was home the evening." 

The amateur detective next called up the 
house of the pneumonia patient. His moth- 
er answered the telephone. Mrs. Brown 
asked how he was resting. The answer 
came back clear and firm. "Oh, he's ever 
so much better. Last night he actually 
had a bowl of chicken broth." 

Mrs. Brown smiled. She looked over 



ALL SORTS OF HUMOR. 



205 



the papers to see what had been the amuse- 
ments of the night before. She discovered 
that there had been a Greco-Roman 
wresthng match at the CoHseum. Now 
she penetrated the depth of the doctor's 
perfidy! He had bribed some one to call 
him up on the telephone. All his anxiety 
about the party had been a blind. The 
dress suit on the bed — Mrs, Brown 
laughed again. 

When the doctor came home to dinner 
she laid the little scrap of yellow paper be- 



side his plate. "I think, my dear," she 
said very quietly, "that instead of a pearl 
brooch I will take a diamond ring for 
Christmas and I would like to buy it myself 
to-morrow." 

Mrs. Brown is wearing the diamond 
ring, and her husband goes with her to see 
or hear everything she wishes to see or 
hear — even lectures on Buddhism. Mrs. 
Brown likes lectures upon Oriental sub- 
jects. 



MAME'S ENTRANCE INTO SOCIETY. 



pP^ HERE are no formal coming-out par- 
fYf ties in Mame's stratum of society. 
When a girl reaches the proper age she 
turns up her hair, puts on long skirts and 
waits for some young man to discover that 
she is really grown up and eligible for ball 
and party engagements. 

Mame had her skirts lengthened and 
learned to do her hair in a "figure eight" 
early in November. She had done her part. 
Now she must wait. It is very tiresome to 
have your debut delayed. Every time that 
Mame looked up at the muslin banner hung 
across the front of Wrenn's hall to adver- 
tise the holiday party of the Unique Social 
Pleasure Club her heart contracted. If she 
could only be asked! She could let down 
her last summer's organdie and cut out the 
yoke and loop up the sleeves with velvet 
ribbon and look as well dressed as any girl 
in the bunch. 

It grew very close to the evening set for 
the ball before the invitation came and then 
it seemed almost like an accident. She 
was in the corner drug store when Jimmy 
Johnson came in to get the holiday express 
packages that had accumulated there. 
Mame and Jimmy used to know each other 
at the Tilden school. They talked of old 
times for awhile, then, quite casually, Jim- 



my looked up at the muslin banner strung 
across the front of Wrenn's hall. "Going 
to the party over there?" he asked. 

Mame thought rather scornfully that he 
might have asked her without this cautious 
prelude, but she looked at the perfumery 
display on the counter and said that she 
didn't expect to go. 

"Won't you go with me?" Jimmy next 
asked with a promptness that appeased her 
pride. 

"I should be very pleased to," she said, 
with a stilif little smile that concealed much 
girlish exultation. 

"xAlII right, then," Jimmy answered, tak- 
ing up an armful of express packages. "I'll 
be round. Good-by. I'm busy as all get 
out." 

Mame liew home to tell the good news. 
She pulled the organdie out of the dark 
corner of the closet and looked it over. She 
explained her proposed improvements to 
her mother. Her mother approved and 
even went so far as to suggest that red satin 
slippers ought to be worn with the toilet. 
The two finally decided that scarlet ribbons 
and the slippers would make the organdie 
just as good as new. 

When the dress was made over and the 
red slippers were safe in her bureau drawer 



ALL SORTS OF HUMOR. 



207 



Mame had an awful moment. What if she 
would not be able to dance? True, she had 
learned to dance years ago on the side- 
walks to the music of a street piano, and it 
did seem that any person who could dance 
on rough stone could do well on a smooth 
floor, but she must be on the safe side. 
She went over to see Ella Lynch. She 
asked for an expert opinion. Ella called 
her sister Mary from her algebra and set 
her down at the piano. Mary played a 
waltz and then a two-step, with a touch 
like that of a steam hammer. Ella and 
Mame circled solemnly around the room, 
bumping into the furniture and making 
short turns to avoid the base burner. 

"You'll do," Ella said when they rested. 
"And you're going to be an elegant dancer 
after awhile." Mame went home perfectly 
satisfied, for Ella had assisted in Prof. Du- 
baroow's dancing academy for two terms 
and was a past grand mistress of the 
waltz. 

She was very happy when she was all 
ready for the dance and had been inspected 
by every member of the family from her 



father to little Aggy. What girl isn't hap- 
py when she is ready for her first ball and 
knows that she can dance, that her gown 
is becoming and that she is really — well, 
why not acknowledge it? — very pretty? 

Then she sat down to wait, spreading her 
stiff skirts about like the petals of a flower. 
She listened for Jimmy's ring. He was 
very slow. After awhile her expectancy 
became tinged with a dawning fear. Per- 
haps he had forgotten that he asked her! 
He had been so busy over Christmas. It 
was almost half-past 9 o'clock. He was 
not coming! 

Mame bit her lips. She wondered dimly 
if she ever would get to a ball. Her moth- 
er and father thought of a hundred reasons 
why Jimmy should be late. She rejected 
them all. He wasn't coming. 

There was a tremendous clumping on the 
stairs. Jimmy burst into the room like a 
jovial cyclone. "Get a move on you, Mame. 
We don't want to miss the grand march. 
Come on! Good-by, folks." 

And in this fashion Mame was introduced 
to society. 



MR. SPOOPENDYKE SURPRISES HIS WIFE. 



a 



OW, my dear," said Mr. Spoopen- 
dyke, hurrying up to his wife's 
room, "if you'll come down in the yard, 
I've got a pleasant surprise for you." 

"What is it?" asked Mrs. Spoopendyke, 
"what have you got, a horse?" 

"Guess again," grinned Mr. Spoopen- 
dyke. "It's something like a horse." 

"I know! It's a new parlor carpet. That's 
what it is!" 

"No, it isn't either. I said it's some- 
thing like a horse; that is, it goes when 
you make it. Guess again." 

"Is it paint for the kitchen walls?" asked 
Mrs. Spoopendyke, innocently. 

"No, it ain't and it ain't a hogshead of 



stove blacking, nor a set of dining-room 
furniture, nor it ain't seven gross of sta- 
tionary wash tubs. Now guess again." 

"Then it must be some lace curtains for 
the sitting-room windows. Isn't that just 
splendid?" and Mrs. Spoopendyke patted 
her husband on both cheeks and danced 
up and down with delight. 

"It's a bicycle, that's what it is!" 
growled Mr. Spoopendyke. "I bought it 
for exercise and I'm going to ride it. Come 
down and see me." 

"Well, ain't I glad," ejaculated Mrs. 
Spoopendyke. "You ought to have more 
exercise; if there's exercise in anything, 
it's in a bicycle. Do let's see it!" 



208 



ALL SORTS OF HUMOR. 



Mr. Spoopendyke conducted his wife to 
the yard and descanted at length on the 
merits of the machine. 

"In a few weeks I'll be able to make a 
mile a minute," he said, as he steadied the 
apparatus against the clothes post and pre- 
pared to mount. "Now you watch me go 
to the end of this path." 

He got a foot into one treadle and went 
head first into a flower patch, the machine 
on top, with a prodigious crash. 

"Hadn't you better tie it up to the post 
until you get on?" suggested Mrs. Spoop- 
endyke. 

"Leave me alone, will ye?" demanded 
Mr, Spoopendyke, struggUng to an even 
keel. "I'm doing most of this myself. Now 
you hold on and keep your mouth shut. 
It takes a little practice, that's all." 

Mr. Spoopendyke mounted again and 
scuttled along four or five feet and flopped 
over on the grassplot. 

"That's splendid!" commended his wife. 
"You've got the idea already. Let me hold 
it for you this time." 

"If you've got any extra strength, you 
hold your tongue, will ye?" growled Mr. 
Spoopendyke. "It don't want any hold- 
ing. It ain't alive. Stand back and give 
me room, now." 

The third trial Mr. Spoopendyke ambled 
to the end of the path and went down all 
in a heap among the flower pots. 

"That's just too lovely for anything!" 
exclaimed Mrs. Spoopendyke. "You made 
more'n a mile a minute, that time." 

"Come and take it ofif!" roared Mr. 
Spoopendyke. "Help me up! Blast the 
bicycle!" and the worthy gentleman strug- 
gled and plunged around like a whale in 
shallow water. 

Mrs, Spoopendyke assisted in righting 
him and brushed him ofif. 

'T know where you made your mistake," 



said she. "You ought to sit on sideways. 
Try it that way going back." 

"Maybe you can ride this bicycle better 
than I can," howled Mr. Spoopendyke. 
"You know all about wheels! What you 
need now is a lantern in your mouth and 
ten minutes behind time to be the City 
Hall clock! If you had a bucket of water 
and a handle you'd make a steam grind- 
stone! Don't you see you can't sit on a 
bicycle sideways as a woman does on a 
horse?" 

"Yes, dear," murmured Mrs. Spoopen- 
dyke, "but I thought if you got so you 
could ride it that way, you wouldn't be so 
likely to fall," 

"Who fell?" demanded Mr. Spoopen- 
dyke. "Didn't you see me step ofif? I 
tripped, that's all. Now you just watch me 
go back," 

Once more Mr. Spoopendyke started in, 
but the big wheel turned around and 
looked him in the face and then began to 
stagger. 

"Look out!" squealed Mrs. Spoopen- 
dyke. 

Mr. Spoopendyke wrenched away and 
kicked and struggled, but it was of no 
avail. Down he came, and the bicycle was 
a hopeless wreck. 

"What'd ye want to yell for?" he 
shrieked. "Couldn't ye keep your measly 
mouth shut? What'd ye think ye are, any- 
how, a fog horn? Blast the measly bicy- 
cle!" and Mr. Spoopendyke hit it a kick 
that folded it up like a bolt of muslin, 

"Never mind, my dear," consoled Mrs. 
Spoopendyke, "I'm afraid the exercise was 
too violent anyway, and I'm rather glad 
you broke it." 

"I s'pose so," snorted Mr. Spoopendyke. 
"There's sixty dollars gone." 

"Don't worry, love. I'll go without the 
carpet and curtains, and the paint will do 



ALL SORTS OF HUMOR. 



eo9 



well enough in the kitchen. Let me rub 
you with arnica." 

But Mr. Spoopendyke was too deeply 
grieved by his wife's conduct to accept any 
office at her hands, preferring to punish 

"GOT STRIPES 

fUSED to boss him in the store 
And oversee his work, 
For I had charge of one whole floor 

And he was just a clerk.. 
To-day it's dififerent, if you please; 

We've changed respective pegs, 
I'm private in the ranks — and he's 
Got, stripes 
Down 
His 
Legs. 

The girls, whose smiles were once for me, 
Now scarce vouchsafe a glance. 

Such great attraction can they see 
In decorated pants. 

The erstwhile clerk no longer my 
Indulgence humble begs. 



her by letting his wounds smart rather 
than get well, and thereby relieve her of 
any anxiety she brought on herself by act- 
ing so outrageously under the circum- 
stances. 



DOWN HIS LEGS." 

[ I'm down below. He's up on high, 
With stripes 
Down 
His 
Legs. 

It's "Private Jones, do this and that." 

In haste I must bestir — 
To Jenkins, on whom oft I've sat, 

I'm told to answer "Sir!" 
One born to rule, it's come to pass 

Of woe I drink the dregs — 
I'm in the army with, alas! 
No stripes 
Down 
My 
Legs. 



— Edwin L. Sabin. 



BOTH HAD BEEN REJECTED. 

(Fl ACK, I hear you have gone and done 



It. 

Yes, I know; most fellows will; 
Went and tried it once myself, sir, 

Though you see I'm single still. 
And you met her — did you tell me? 

Down at Brighton last July, 
And resolved to ask the question 

At a soiree? So did I. 

I suppose you left the ball-room, 

With its music and its light ; 
For they say love's flame is brightest 

In the darkness of the night. 
Well, we walked along together, 

Overhead the starlit sky; 
And I'll bet — old man confess it — 

You were frightened. So was I. 



So you strolled along the terrace, 

Saw the summer moonlight pour 
All its radiance on the waters 

As they rippled on the shore. 
Till at length you gathered courage. 

When you saw that none were nigh — 
Did you draw her close and tell her 

That you loved her? So did I. 

Well, I needn't ask you further. 

And I'm sure I wish you joy; 
Think I'll wander down and see you 

When you're married — eh, my boy? 
When the honeymoon is over. 

And you're settled down, we'll try — 
What? The deuce you say! Rejected? 

You rejected? So was I! 



PATHETIC AND HOMELIKE. 



^- jf t?' 



I^lgy OTHING touches the heart so quick- 
ie ly as the pathetic. Around the death 

of an outcast, a pauper, the poet has woven 

verses of dignity and pathos : 

Tread softly ; bow the head, 

In reverent silence bow ; 
No passing bell doth toll, 
Yet an immortal soul 

Is passing now. 

Stranger, however great, 
With holy reverence bow ; 

There's one in that poor shed. 

One by that paltry bed. 
Greater than thou. 



Beneath that beggar's roof, 

Lo ! Death doth keep his state. 

Enter; no crowds attend. 

Enter ; no guards defend 
This palace gate. 

IT WAS 



That pavement, damp and cold.. 

No smiling courtiers tread. 
One silent woman stands, 
Lifting with meager hands 
A dying head. 

No mingling voices sound : 

An infant wail alone ; 
A sob suppressed ; again 
That short, deep gasp — and then 
The parting groan ! 

O change ! O wondrous change ! 

Burst are the prison bars : 
This moment there, so low, 
So agonized — and now 

Beyond the stars ! 

O change ! stupendous change ! 

There lies the soulless clod. 
The sun eternal breaks, 
The new immortal wakes — 

Wakes with his God. 



fWAS sitting alone one evening, 
Counting the tireless tick 
Of the clock that hung in the corner, 
Until drowsiness played me a trick. 



ONLY A DREAM. 

How quickly my heart then relented! 

And, gathering one to each knee, 
I told them a wonderful story 

Of the wonderful days to be. 



From out of the hallway came romping, 

As children so often will, 
A dear little girl and her brother, 

And rudely I bade them be still. 

The face of fair Ethel grew solemn, 
And Jamie looked suddenly sad, 

While his lips asked the pertinent question, 
"EtheJ, what makes papa bad?" 



They listened with eager attention 
Until happiness shone in each face. 

Ere long they were slumbering sweetly, 
And my lap was their nestling place. 

Then 1 lifted them ever so gently — 

But that was the end of my joy. 
For I woke from the dream I was dream-^ 

And I've no little girl or boy. 

— William S. Lord. 



211 



212 



PATHETIC AND HOMELIKE. 



IF WE ONLY KNEW. 



F we knew the woe and heartache 
Waiting for us down the road, 
If our Hps could taste the wormwood, 

If our backs could feel the load. 
Would we waste the day in wishing 

For a time that ne'er can be? 
Would we wait with such impatience 
For our ships to come from sea? 

If we knew the baby fingers. 

Pressed against the window pane, 

Would be cold and stiff to-morrow, 
Never trouble us again, 



Would the bright eyes of our darling 
Catch the frown upon our brow? 

Would the print of rosy fingers 
Vex us then as they do now? 

Ah, those little ice-cold fingers ! 

How they point our memories back 
To the hasty words and actions 

Strewn along our backward track! 
How these little hands remind us, 

As in snowy grace they lie, 
Not to scatter thorns, but roses, 

For our reaping by and by! 



PRESIDENT LINCOLN'S FAVORITE POEM. 



BRAHAM LINCOLN knew every 
word and line of it, and he often took 
occasion, in his meditative moods, to repeat 
the following verses : 

Oh, why should the spirit of mortal be 

proud ? 
Like a fast-flitting meteor, a fast-flying 

cloud, 
A flash of the lightning, a break of the 

wave. 
He passes from life to his rest in the grave. 

The leaves of the oak and the willow shall 

fade, 
Be scattered around and together be laid ; 
And the young and the old, and the low and 

the high, 
Shall moulder to dust and together shall lie. 

The child that a mother attended and loved, 
The mother that infant's affection that 

proved, 
The husband that mother and infant that 

blessed. 
Each, all, are away to their dwelling of rest. 



The maid on whose cheek, on whose brow, 

in whose eye. 
Shone beauty and pleasure, — her triumphs 

are by; 
And the memory of those that beloved her 

and praised. 
Are alike from the minds of the living 

erased. 

The hand of the king that the sceptre hath 

borne, 
The brow of the priest that the mitre hath 

worn. 
The eye of the sage, and the heart of the 

brave. 
Are hidden and lost in the depths of the 

grave. 

The peasant whose lot was to sow and to 

reap. 
The herdsman who climbed with his goats 

to the steep. 
The beggar that wandered in search of his 

bread, 
Have faded away like the grass that we 

tread. 



PATHETIC AND HOMELIKE. 



213 



The saint that enjoyed the communion of 

Heaven, 
The sinner that dared to remain unforgiven, 
The wise and the foohsh, the guihy and 

just, 
Have quietly mingled their bones in the 

dust. 

So the multitude goes, like the flower and 
the weed. 

That wither away to let others succeed ; 

So the multitude comes, even those we be- 
hold. 

To repeat every tale that hath often been 
told. 

For we are the same that our fathers have 
been; 

We see the same sights that our fathers 
have seen, — 

VVe drink the same stream, and we feel the 
same sun. 

And we run the same course that our fath- 
ers have run. 

The thoughts we are thinking our fathers 

would think ; 
From the death we are shrinking from, they 

too would shrink ; 
To the life we are clinging to, they too 

would cling; 
But it speeds from the earth like a bird on 

the wing. 



They loved, but their story we cannot un- 
fold; 

They scorned, but the heart of the haughty 
is cold; 

They grieved, but no wail from their slum- 
bers may come ; 

They joyed, but the voice of their gladness 
is dumb. 

They died, — ay, they died; and we things 
that are now, 

Who walk on the turf that lies over their 
brow, 

Who make in their dwellings a transient 
abode, 

Meet the changes they met on their pil- 
grimage road. 

Yea ! hope and despondency, pleasure and 

pain. 
Are mingled together like sunshine and 

rain ; 
And the smile and the tear and the song 

and the dirge 
Still follow each other, like surge upon 

surge. 

'Tis the wink of an eye, 'tis the draught of 

a breath, 
From the blossom of health to the paleness 

of death. 
From the gilded saloon to the bier and the 

shroud, — ' 
Oh, why should the spirit of mortal be 

proud ? 



TAKE KEER OF YOURSE'F." 



©LD man never had much to say, 
'Ceptin' to Jim ; 
And Jim was the wildest boy he had, 

And the old man jes' wrapped up in him ! 
Never heerd him speak but once 
Er twice in my life — and first time was 
When the army broke out, and Jim he went, 
The old man backin' him, for three months. 
And all 'at I heerd the old man say 



Was, jes' as we turned to start away: 
"Well, good-bye, Jim : 
Take keer of yourse'f !" 

'Feared like he was more satisfied 

Jes' lookin' at Jim, 
And likin' him all to hisse'f-like, see? 

'Cause he was jes' wrapped up in him ! 
And over and over I mind the day 



214 



PATHETIC AND HOMELIKE. 



The old man came and stood round in the 

way 
While we was drillin', a-watchin' Jim, 
And down at the depot a-hearin' him say : 

"Well, good-bye, Jim : 

■Take keer of yourse'f !" 

Never was nothin' about the farm 

Disting'ished Jim ; 
Neighbors all uset to wonder why 

The old man 'peared wrapped up in him ; 
But when Cap Biggler he writ back 

'At Jim was the bravest boy we had 
In the whole dern regiment, white or black, 

And his fightin' good as his farmin' 
bad— 
'At he had led, with a bullet clean 

Bored through his thigh, and carried the 
flag 
Through the bloodiest battle you ever seen, 
The old man wound up a letter to him 
'That Cap read to us, 'at said: "Tell Jim 

Good-bye, 

And take keer of hisse'f !" 

Jim came back jes' long enough 

To take the whim 
'At he'd like to go back in calvery — 

And the old man jes' wrapped up in him ! 
Jim 'lowed 'at he'd had sich luck afore, 
Guessed he'd tackle her three years more. 
And the old man gave him a colt he'd 
raised. 

And follered him over to Camp Ben 
Wade, 
And laid around fer a week er so, 

Watchin' Jim on dress parade — 
Tel finally he rid away, 



And last he heerd was the old man say : 
"Well, good-bye, Jim : 
Take keer of /ourse'f !" 

Tuk the papers, the old man did, 

A-watchin' fer Jim — 
Fully believin' he'd make his mark 

Some way — jes' wrapped up in him! 
And many a time the word 'u'd come 
'At stirred him up like the tap of a drum — 
At Petersburg, fer instance, where 
Jim rid right into their cannons there. 
And tuk 'em and p'inted 'em t'other way 
And socked it home to the boys in gray 
As they skooted fer timber, and on and on — 
Jim a lieutenant and one arm gone, 
And the old man's words in his mind all 
day : 

"Well, good-bye, Jim ; 
Take keer of yourse'f!" 

Think of a private, now perhaps, 

We'll say like Jim, 
'At's dumb clean up to the shoulder 
straps — 
And the old man jes' wrapped up in 
him ! — 
Think of him — with the war plum through, 
And the glorious old Red-white-and-blue 
A-laughin' the news down over Jim 
And the old man bendin' over him — 
The surgeon turnin' away with tears 
'At hadn't leaked fer years and years — 
As the hand of the dyin' boy clung to 
His father's, the old voice in his ears : 
"Well, good-bye, Jim ; 
Take keer of yourse'f!" 

— James Whit comb Riley. 



FOUGHT WITH GRANT AND LEE. 



I HIS was w^ritten in 1885, just before 
the death of General Grant: 

They sat together, side by side. 
In the shade of an orange tree ; 



One had followed the flag of Grant, 
The other had fought with Lee. 

The boy in blue had an empty sleeve, 
A crutch had the boy in gray ; 



2l6 



PATHETIC AND HOMELIKE. 



They talked of the long and weary march, 
They talked of the bloody fray. 

"My chief is dead," the Johnny said, 

"A leader brave was he ; 
And sheathed fore'er at Lexington, 
Doth hang the sword of Lee." 

"My leader lives," — the boy in blue 
Spoke low and with a sigh — 



"But all the country waits in fear 
That he to-day may die." 



"God bless our Grant !" the vet'ran said. 
And dropped a tear, and then 
In heartfelt tones the answer came, 
For the rebel said — "Amen." 



TAKING A LOOK BACKWARD. 



/g^ OME, my wife, put down the Bible, 
\^j Lay your glasses on the book. 
Both of us are bent and aged — 

Backward, mother, let us look. 
This is still the same old homestead 

Where I brought you long ago. 
When the hair was bright with sunshine 

That is now like winter's snow. 
Let us talk about the babies. 

As we sit here all alone, 
Such. a merry troop of youngsters; 

How we lost them one by one. 

Jack, the first of all the party, 

Came to us one winter's night ; 
Jack, you said, should be a parson, 

Long before he saw the light. 
Do you see the great cathedral. 

Filled the transept and the nave, 
Hear the organ grandly pealing, 

Watch the silken hangings wave; 
See the priest in robes of office, 

With the altar at his back — 
Would you think that gifted preacher 

Could be your own little Jack? 

Then a girl with curly tresses 

Used to climb upon my knee, 
Like a little fairy princess 

Ruling at the age of three. 
With the years there came a wedding — 

How your fond heart swelled with pride 



When the lord of all the country 
Chose your baby for his bride ! 
Watch that stately carriage coming. 

And the form reclining there- 
Would you think that brilliant lady 
Could be your own little Clare ? 

Then the last, a blue-eyed youngster — 

I can hear him prattling now — 
Such a strong and sturdy fellow. 

With his broad and honest brow. 
How he used to love his mother ! 

Ah ! I see your trembling lip ! 
He is far off on the water, 

Captain of a royal ship. 
See the bronze upon his forehead. 

Hear the voice of stern command — 
'Tis the boy who clung so fondly 

To his mother's gentle hand ? 

Ah ! my wife, we've lost the babies, 

Ours so long and ours alone ; 
What are we to these great people. 

Stately men and women grown ? 
Seldom do we ever see them : 

Yes, a bitter tear-drop starts. 
As we sit here in the fire-light. 

Lonely hearth and lonely hearts. 
All their lives are full without us ; 

They'll stop long enough one day 
Just to lay us in the church-yard. 

Then they'll each go on their way. 



PATHETIC AND HOMELIKE. 



217 



"ROCK ME TO SLEEP, MOTHER." 



[(©BACKWARD, turn backward, O 
Time ! in your flight, 
Make me a child again, just for to-night ! 
Mother, come back from the echoless shore, 
Take me again to your heart, as of yore ; 
Kiss from my forehead the furrows of care. 
Smooth the few silver threads out of my 

hair; 
Over my slumbers your loving watch keep — 
Rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep ! 

Backward, flow backward, O swift tide of 

years ! 
I am weary of toil, I am weary of tears; 
Toil without recompense, tears all in vain, 
Take them, and give me my childhood 



agam 



I have grown weary of dust and decay, 
Weary of flinging my soul-wealth away. 
Weary of sowing for others to reap ; 
Rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep ! 

Tired of the hollow, the base, the untrue, 
Mother, O mother ! my heart calls for you ! 
Many a summer the grass has grown green. 
Blossomed and faded, our faces between ; 
Yet with strong yearning and passionate 

pain. 
Long I to-night for your presence again ; 
Come from the silence so long and so deep — 
Rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep ! 

Over my heart, in the days that are flown, 
No love like mother-love ever has shone. 



No other worship abides and endures 
Faithful, unselfish, and patient, like yours ; 
None like a mother can charm away pain 
From the sorrowing soul and the world- 
weary brain ; 
Slumber's soft calm o'er my heavy lids 

creep ; 
Rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep ! 

Come, let your brown hair, just lighted with 

gold, 
Fall on your shoulders again as of old ; 
Let it fall over my forehead to-night. 
Shielding my eyes from the flickering light ; 
For oh ! with its sunny-edged shadows once 

more, 
H^ply will throng the sweet visions of yore ; 
Lovingly, softly its bright billows sweep — 
Rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep ! 

Mother, dear mother! the years have been 

long- 
Since last I was hushed by your lullaby 

song; 
Sing them again, — to my soul it shall seem 
Womanhood's years have been only a 

dream ; 
Clasp to your arms in a loving embrace, 
With your soft, light lashes just sweeping 

my face. 
Never hereafter to wake or to weep ; 
Rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep ! 
— Mrs. Elizabeth Akers. 



SHE WAS THE PREACHER'S MOTHER. 



SHE was a little old woman, very 
plainly dressed in black bombazine 
that had seen much careful wear; her 
bonnet was very old-fashioned, and people 
stared at her tottering up the aisle of the 
church, evidently bent on securing one of 



the best seats, for a great man preached 
that day. The house was filled with splen- 
didly dressed people who had heard of the 
fame of the preacher, of his learning, his 
intellect and goodness, and they wondered 
at the presumption of the poor old woman. 



2l8 



PATHETIC AND HOMELIKE. 



She must have been in her dotage, for she 
picked out the pew of the richest and 
proudest member of the church and took 
a seat. 

Three ladies who were seated there beck- 
oned to the sexton, who bent over the in- 
truder and whispered something, but she 
was hard of hearing, and smiled a little 
withered smile, as she said, gently, "Oh, 
I'm quite comfortable here, quite comfort- 
able." 

"But you are not wanted here," said the 
sexton, pompously; "there is not room. 
Come with me, my good woman ; I will see 
that you have a seat." 

"Not room!" said the old woman, look- 
ing at her shrunken proportions and then 
at the fine ladies. "Why, I'm not crowded 
a bit. I rode ten miles to hear the sermon 
to-day, because " 

But here the sexton took her by the arm, 
shook her roughly in a polite underhand 
way, and then she took the hint. Her 
faded old eyes filled with tears, her chin 
quivered; but she rose meekly and left the 
pew. Turning quietly to the ladies, who 
were spreading their rich dresses over the 
space .she left vacant, she said gently: "I 
hope, my dears, there'll be room in heaven 
for us all." 

Then she followed the pompous sexton 
to the rear of the church, where, in the last 
pew, she was seated between a threadbare 
girl and a shabby old man. 

"She must be crazy," said one of the 
ladies in the pew which she had first occu- 



pied. "What can an ignorant old woman 

like her want to hear Dr. preach for? 

She would not be able to understand a 
word he said." 

"Those people are so persistent. The 
idea of her forcing herself into our pew! 
Isn't that voluntary lovely? There's Dr. 

coming out of the vestry. Is he not 

grand?" 

"Splendid! What a stately man! You 
know he has promised to dine with us 
while he is here." 

He was a commanding looking man, and 
as the organ voluntary stopped, and he 
looked over the great crowd of worshipers 
gathered in the vast church, he seemed to 
scan every face. His hand was on the 
Bible, when suddenly he leaned over the 
reading desk and beckoned to the sexton, 
who obsequiously mounted the steps to 
receive a mysterious message. 

And then the three ladies in the grand 
pew were electrified to see him take his 
way the whole length of the church to re- 
turn with the old woman, when he placed 
her in the front pew of all, its other occu- 
pants making willing room for her. The 
great preacher looked at her with a smile 
of recognition, and then the services pro- 
ceeded, and he preached a sermon that 
struck fire from every heart. 

"Who was she?" asked the ladies who 
could not make room for her, as they 
passed the sexton at the door. 

"The preacher's mother," was the reply. 



OUR LITTLE BOY BLUE. 



^iE^HE little toy dog is covered with dust, 
fYf But sturdy and stanch he stands; 
And the little toy soldier is red with rust. 

And his musket molds in his hands. 
Time was, when the little toy dog was new, 

And the soldier was passing fair. 



And that is the time when our Little Boy 
Blue 
Kissed them and put them there. 

"Now, don't you go till I come," he said. 
"And don't you make any noise!" 



PATHETIC AND HOMELIKE. 



219 



So, toddling off to his trundle-bed, 

He dreamt of the pretty toys. 
And as he was dreaming, an angel song 

Awakened our Little Boy Blue — 
O, the years are many, the years are long, 

But the little toy friends are true. 

Aye, faithful to Little Boy Blue, they 
stand. 
Each in the same old place, 



Awaiting the touch of a little hand. 

The smile of a little face. 
And they wonder, as waiting these long 
years through 
In the dust of that little chair, 
What has become of our Little Boy Blue 
Since he kissed them, and put them 
there. 

— Eupene Field. 



ONLY THE BABY CRIED FOR LORRAINE. 



a 



RE you ready for your steeple- 
(s\ chase, Lorraine, Lorraine, Lorree? 
You're booked to ride your capping race 

to-day at Coulterlee, 
You're booked to ride Vindictive, for all 

the world to see, 
To keep him straight, and keep him first, 
and win the run for me." 

She clasped her new-born baby, poor Lor- 
raine, Lorraine, Lorree, 

"I can not ride Vindictive, as any man 
might see. 

And I will not ride Vindictive with this 
baby on my knee; 

He's killed a boy, he's killed a man, and 
why must he kill me?" 

"Unless you ride Vindictive, Lorraine, 
Lorraine, Lorree, 

Unless you ride Vindictive to-day at Coul- 
terlee 

And land him safe across the brook and 
win the blank for me. 



It's you who may keep your baby, for you'll 
get no keep from me." 

"That husbands could be cruel," said Lor- 
raine, Lorraine, Lorree, 

"That husbands could be cruel I have 
known for seasons three; 

But oh! to ride Vindictive while a baby 
cries for me 

And be killed across the fence at last for 
all the world to see?" 

She mastered young Vindictive — oh! the 

gallant lass was she! — 
And she kept him straight and won the 

race, as near as near could be; 
But he killed her at the brook against a 

pollard willow tree. 
Oh! he killed her at the brook — the brute! 

— for all the world to see. 
And no one but the baby cried for poor 

Lorraine, Lorree. 

— Charles Kingsley. 



"f 



TIM WENT STRAIGHT HOME. 



T'S a staving night for a supper, a 
hot supper, too," said Tim Mulligan 
to himself, as he stood on the street corner, 
in the piercing wind and sleet. 

"A staving night," he reiterated, as he 
peered wistfully into the bakery windows 
across the way. He had not had any din- 



ner at all, and not enough breakfast to say 
so — nothing but a crust or two that he had 
picked up. 

A little humpbacked, stunted figure, with 
dull blue eyes, and thin, peaked face sur- 
mounted by a brimless hat; his clothes, 
evidently odds and ends — for the pants 




WHAT IS A HOME WITHOUT BOOKS? 



PATHETIC AND HOMELIKE. 



221 



were too large and long-, while the coat- 
sleeves came scarcely below his elbows, 
and the garment would not begm to button 
around him, — that was Tim. 

"It's a bad night," he said, as a gust of 
wind nearly took him off his feet. "The 
worst I ever knew," which was saying a 
good deal, for Tim had known some pretty 
rough nights in the course of his short life. 
"There isn't much show of my getting any- 
thing to-night. Guess I'd better be turnin' 
in, pervided nobody's gone and took pos- 
session of my 'stablishment." 

But just as Tim was bracing himself up 
to face the storm, some one came driving 
down the street at a furious rate, stopping 
so close to Tim that he took a step to get 
out of the way. 

"Here, bub, hold my horse for me," said 
the gentleman, springing out; and handing 
the lines to Tim, he disappeared. 

"Mebbe he'll give me as much as — five 
cents," thought Tim, when he had thought- 
fully obeyed. "If he does, I'll have a plate 
of hot beans and biscuits. P'r'aps he'll 
give me ten. Wouldn't I have a reg'lar 
square meal then? But 'tain't likely." 

Five, ten, fifteen minutes passed. Tim's 
hands were pretty thoroughly benumbed 
when at last the gentleman returned in as 
much haste as he had gone away. 

"Here's something for you," he said, 
dropping a couple of coins into Tim's hand, 
then springing into his buggy. 

Tim went under the nearest gaslight to 
examine. 

"Je-ru-sa-lem!" he gasped, as he saw two 
bright silver dimes in his rather grimy 
hands. Twenty cents seemed a small for- 
tune to Tim, for there were so few things a 
poor little hunchback like him could do. 

He would have such a supper, baked 
beans, biscuit, and a cup of coffee, and even 
a doughnut; he could have all that, and 
still have some money left for to-morrow. 



The richest man in the whole great city 
would have felt poor beside Tim, as, clutch- 
ing his treasure, he crossed the street. 
There, crouching in the shadow of a door- 
way, he spied two miserably forlorn little 
figures. 

"Hullo!" he cried. "What you doin' 
here?" 

"Nuthin'," replied the oldest briefly. 

"What makes you stay here then? Why 
don't you go home?" continued Tim. 

"Hain't got none," was the reply; and 
then feeling the hearty, though unspoken 
sympathy of one of their own sort, the 
little waif added, as he drew his jacket- 
sleeve across his eyes, "They carried 
mother up to the graveyard, yonder," 
pointing in the direction of the pauper 
burial ground, "and we hasn't anybody 
now, nor nowheres to stay." 

As Tim stood deliberating, the bakery 
door opened and a most appetizing odor 
came out, reminding Tim of his promised 
treat. 

"Hungry?" he asked. 

"You bet!" was the inelegant but em- 
phatic response. Tim reflected on his own 
real good fortune. He could get biscuits, 
cold beans, and perhaps doughnuts enough 
for them all. 

"Tell you what, fellers," he said mag- 
nificently, "I was just a-goin' to order my 
bill of fare. I'll increase my order a little, 
have a party and invite you two. As it's 
rather suddint, we won't none of us bother 
'bout party does. 'Greeable?" 

"Reckon we air," was the quick re- 
sponse. Tim made a dive for the bakery, 
trying hard not to smell the coffee, nor 
think how much better a plate of hot beans 
would be than the same cold. 

"Now," he said, reappearing, "all aboard. 
Follow me sharp." 

You may be sure the two little raga- 
muffins did as they were bidden. 



2.22 



PATHETIC AND HOMELIKE. 



"Tain't much further," said Tim, at 
length. "I'm a httle s'lect in my tastes, 
you see, so I live rather out of the way o' 
folks," laughed he. 

Presently they struck the railroad, and 
then, in a few minutes, he stopped before 
an unused, dilapidated flag house. 

"Walk in," he asked, politely holding 
open the door, which was only a plank. 
There certainly was not much room to 
spare when they were all in, but then they 
were sheltered, and all the warmer for 
being obliged to keep close together. 

"Reckon we'd better interduce before 
grub, hadn't we? I'm Tim Mulligan— at 
your service, an' happy to meet you." 

"The boys in the alley call us Speckle- 
Face and Red-Top. I'm Speckle-Face, 
and he's Red-Top," said the spokesman. 

"Now we're all right, and old friends," 
said Tim, complacently. "Let's pitch in." 

He had spread the contents of his par- 
cels on an old box, and without waiting for 
another invitation, didn't they "pitch in"! 
Tim watched them with solid satisfaction, 
contenting himself with one small biscuit 
and half a doughnut. "I'm not so very per- 
tic'ler about beans. Guess I won't indulge 
to-night," he said. 

It did not take very long to clear up, 
even to the last crumb of Tim's spread. 

"Now, sirs," said the brave little host, 
when it was gone and his guests showed 
signs of departing, "my accommerdations 
are not so very grand, but they're better 
than the storm. You'd better stop over 
night." 

As his guests made no remonstrance to 
this suggestion, he made ready a bed for 
them, a little straw and part of an old 
blanket. 

"You bundle up together, and you'll 
stand it, I guess," said Tin? 

"You're an awiul good feller," said 
Speckle-Face, gratefully, as he pulled the 



blanket round him, and in less than five 
minutes both were sound asleep. 

It was cold over by the door, which did 
not quite fit, and Tim missed his blanket, 
but did not say anything. Something 
came to him as he lay there shivering. 
Sometimes he crept into a church because 
it was warm there; he had caught at such 
times snatches of sermons about One who 
once lived on earth, was homeless, poor, 
and lonely — "like us fellers," thought Tim. 
But now this mysterious One was great, 
rich and powerful, and had a beautiful 
home. And those who would love and try 
to please Him could go and live with Him. 
He thought it over, as the bitter wind and 
storm came through the cracks upon him. 
He drew as far away as possible, up beside 
his little visitors, who lay sleeping so peace- 
fully. 

"I wonder if Jesus'd listen to a poor 
hunchy like me." And clasping his stiff 
little hands, Tim knelt and made his first 
prayer: "Dear Lord, I don't know who 
you are, nor where you live, but I wish 
you'd take me to your home, for I am so 
tired, and hungry, and cold. And I'll do 
everything I can, if you'll tell me how. 
Won't you please take me? Amen." 

Then Tim lay down again, and somehow 
he did not mind the cold as before. 

"I wonder — ^when — He'll take me — and 
how I'll get there," he thought dreamily. 

It was broad daylight before the two 
little visitors awoke, threw ofif the blanket 
and sat up. 

"Hello!" said Speckle-Face, but Tim did 
not stir. 

"Hello!" piped Red-Top. 

Then Speckle-Face shook him, but still 
Tim's eyes did not open, and Red-Top, 
putting his hand out on his face, started 
back in terror. 

"He's cold, like she was," he sobbed. 

Tim's prayer had been answered; he 



PATHETIC AND HOMELIKE. 



223 



had gone to that home where they shall 
hunger no more. 

And I think he had found that, inasmuch 



as he had done it unto the least of earth's 
sorrowing ones, he had done it unto Him. 



WE SIMPLY SAY, "GOOD-BYE. 




E say it for an hour or for years, 
We say it smiling, say it choked 
with tears; 
We say it coldly, say it with a kiss; 
And yet we have no other word than 
this, — "Good-bye." 



We have no dearer word for our heart's 

friend. 
For him who journeys to the world's far 

end, 

JUST TWO WEE SHOES. 



And sears our soul with going; this we say, 
As unto him who steps but o'er the way, — 

"Good-bye." 

Alike to those we love, and those we hate. 
We say no more at parting at life's gate, 
To him who passes out beyond earth's 

sight,— 
We cry, as to the wanderer for the night, — 

"Good-bye." 



fSAW wife pull out the bottom drawer 
of the old family bureau this evening, 
and went softly out, and wandered up and 
down, until I knew that she had shut it up 
and gone to her sewing. We have some 
things laid away in that drawer which the 
gold of kings could not buy, and yet they 
are relics which grieve us until both our 
hearts are sore. I haven't dared look at 
them for a year, but I remember each arti- 
cle. 

There are two worn shoes, a little chip- 
hat with part of the brim gone, some stock- 
ings, pants, a coat, two or three spools, bits 
of broken crockery, a whip, and several 
toys. Wife — poor thing — goes to that 
drawer every day of her life, and prays over 
it, and lets her tears fall upon the precious 
articles ; but I dare not go. 

Sometimes we speak of little Jack, but 
not often. It has been a long time, but 
somehow we can't get over grieving. He 
was such a burst of sunshine into our lives 
that his going away has been like cover- 
ing our every-day existence with a pall. 
Sometimes, when we sit alone of an even- 



ing, I writing and she sewing, a child on the 
street will call out as our boy used to, and 
we will both start up with beating hearts 
and a wild hope, only to find the darkness 
more of a burden than ever. 

It is so still and quiet now. I look up 
at the window where his blue eyes used 
to sparkle at my coming, but he is not 
there. I listen for his pattering feet, his 
merry shout, and his ringing laugh; but 
there is no sound. There is no one to 
climb over my knees, no one to search my 
pockets and tease for presents; and I never 
find the chairs turned over, the broom 
down, or ropes tied to the door-knobs. 

I want some one to tease me for my 
knife; to ride on my shoulder; to lose my 
axe; to follow me to the gate when I go, 
and be there to meet me when I come; to 
call "good-night" from the little bed, now 
empty. And wife, she misses him still 
more: there are no little feet to wash, no 
prayers to say; no voice teasing for lumps 
of sugar, or sobbing with the pain of a hurt 
toe; and she would give her own life, al- 
most, to awake at midnight, and look 



224 



PATHETIC AND HOMELIKE. 



across to the crib and see our boy there as 
he used to be. 

So we preserve our rehcs; and when 



we are dead we hope that strangers will 
handle them tenderly, even if they shed 
no tears over them. 



"ROOM FOR A TIRED LITTLE FELLOW." 




E had played for his lordship's levee, 
He had played for her ladyship's 
whim, 
Till the poor little head was heavy 
And the poor little brain w^ould swim. 

And the face grew peaked and eerie, 
And the large eyes strange and bright, 

And they said — too late — "He's weary; 
He shall rest, for at least, to-night." 



But at dawn, when the birds were waking, 
As they watched in the silent gloom. 

With the sound of a strained cord break- 
ing 
A something snapped in the room. 

'Twas a string of his violoncello. 

And they heard him stir in his bed: — 

"Make room for a tired little fellow. 
King God," was the last that he said. 



ONE TOUCH OF NATURE. 



N the early spring of 1863, when the 
Confederate and Federal armies were 
confronting each other on the opposite hills 
of Stafford and Spottsylvania, two bands 
chanced one evening, at the same hour, to 
begin to discourse sweet music on either 
bank of the river. A large crowd of the 
soldiers of both armies gathered to listen 
to the music, the friendly pickets not in- 
terfering, and soon the bands began to an- 
swer each other. First the band on the 
northern bank would play "Star-Spangled 
Banner," "Hail Columbia," or some other 
national air, and at its conclusion the "boys 
in blue" would cheer most lustily. And 
then the band on the southern bank would 
respond with "Dixie" or "Bonnie Blue 
Flag," or some other Southern melody, and 
the "boys in gray" would attest their ap- 



probation with an "old Confederate yell." 
But presently one the bands struck up a 
tune — in sweet and plaintive notes which 
were wafted across the beautiful Rappa- 
hannock, were caught up at once by the 
other band and swelled into a grand anthem 
which touched every heart — "Home, Sweet 
Home !" At the conclusion of this piece 
there went up a simultaneous shout from 
both sides of the river — cheer followed 
cheer, and those hills, which had so recently 
resounded with hostile guns, echoed and re- 
echoed the glad acclaim. A chord had been 
struck responsive to which the hearts of 
enemies — enemies then — could beat in uni- 
son ; and, on both sides of the river. 

Something down the soldier's cheek 
Washed ofif the stains of powder. 



A CHILD'S DREAM OF A STAR. 



IHERE was once a child, and he 
strolled about a good deal, and 
thought of a number of things. He had a 
sister who was a child too, and his constant 
companion. They wondered at the beauty 
of the flowers; they wondered at the height 



and blueness of the- sky; they wondered at 
the depth of the water; they wondered at 
the goodness and power of God, who made 
them so lovely. 

They used to say to one another some- 
times: Supposing all the children upon 




A READING EOOM IN A WEALTHY HOME. 



226 



PATHETIC AND HOMELIKE. 



earth were to die, would the flowers, and 
the water, and the sky be sorry? They be- 
Heved they would be sorry. For, said they, 
the buds are the children of the flowers, 
and the little playful streams that gambol 
down the hillsides are the children of the 
water, and the smallest bright speck play- 
ing at hide and seek in the sky all night 
must surely be the children of the stars; 
and they would all be grieved to see 
their playmates, the children of men, no 
more. 

There was one clear shining star that 
used to come out in the sky before the 
rest, near the church spire, above the 
graves. It was larger and more beautiful, 
they thought, than all the others, and every 
night they watched for it, standing hand- 
in-hand at a window. Whoever saw it first 
cried out, "I see the star." And after that, 
they cried out both together, knowing so 
well when it would rise, and where. So 
they grew to be such friends with it, that 
before lying down in their bed, they always 
looked put once again to bid it good-night ; 
and when they were turning around to 
sleep, they used to say, "God bless the 
star!" 

But while she was still very young, oh, 
very young, the sister drooped, and came 
to be so weak that she could no longer 
stand at the window at night, and then 
the child looked sadly out by himself, and 
when he saw the star, turned round and 
said to the patient pale face on the bed, 
*T see the star!" and then a smile would 
come upon the face, and a little weak 
voice used to say, "God bless my brother 
and the star!" 

And so the time came, all. too soon, 
when the child looked out all alone, and 
when there was no face on the bed, and 
when there was a grave among the graves, 
not there before, and when the star made 
long rays down toward him as he saw it 



I through his tears. Now these rays were so 
bright, and they seemed to make such a 
shining way from earth to heaven, that 
when the child went to his solitary bed, he 
dreamed about the star; and dreamed that, 
lying where he was, he saw a train of peo- 
ple taken up that sparkling road by angels; 
and the star, opening, showed him a great 
world of light, where many more such 
angels waited to receive them. 

All these angels, who were waiting, 
turned their beaming eyes upon the peo- 
ple who were carried up into the star; and 
some came out from the long rows in 
which they stood, and fell upon the peo- 
ple's necks, and kissed them tenderly, and 
went away with them down avenues of 
light, and were so happy in their company, 
that lying in his bed he wept for joy. 

But there were many angels who did 
not go with them, and among them one he 
knew. The patient face that once had lain 
upon the bed was glorified and radiant, but 
his heart found out his sister among all the 
host. 

His sister's angel lingered near the en- 
trance of the star, and said to the leader 
among those who had brought the people 
thither: 

"Is my brother come?" 

And he said, "No!" 

She was turning hopefully away, when 
the child stretched out his arms, and cried, 
"Oh, sister, I am here! Take me!" And 
then she turned her beaming eyes upon- 
him — and it was night; and the star was 
shining into the room, making long rays 
down towards him as he saw it through 
his tears. 

From that hour forth the child looked 
out upon the star as the home he was to go 
to when his time should come; and he 
thought that he did not belong to the earth 
alone, but to the star too, because of his 
sister's angel gone before. 



PATHETIC AND HOMELIKE. 



227 



There was a baby born to be a brother 
to the child, and, while he was so little 
that he never yet had spoken a word, he 
stretched out his tiny form on the bed, and 
died. 

Again the child dreamed of the opened 
star,, and of the company of angels, and 
the train of people, and the rows of angels 
with their beaming eyes all turned upon 
those people's faces. 

Said his sister's angel to the leader: 

"Is my brother come?" 

And he said, "Not that one, but an- 
other!" 

As the child beheld his brother's angel 
in her arms, he cried, "Oh, my sister, I am 
here! Take me!" And she turned and 
smiled upon him, — and the star was shin- 
ing. 

He grew to be a young man, and was 
busy at his books, when an old servant 
came to him and said: 

"Thy mother is no more. I bring her 
blessing on her darling son." 

Again at night he saw the star, and all 
that former company. Said his sister's 
angel to the leader, 'Ts my brother come?" 

And he said, "The mother!" 

A mighty cry of joy went forth through 
all the star, because the mother was re- 
united to her two children. And he 
stretched out his arms and cried, "Oh, 
mother, sister, and brother, I am here! 
Take me!" And they answered him, "Not 
yet!" — and the star was shining. 



He grew to be a man, whose hair was 
turning gray, and he was sitting in his 
chair by the fireside, heavy with grief, and 
with his face bedewed with tears, when the 
star opened once again. 

Said his sister's angel to the leader, "Is 
my brother come?" 

And he said, "Nay, but his maiden 
daughter!" 

And the man who had been a child, saw 
his daughter, newly lost to him, a celestial 
creature among those three, and he said: 
"My daughter's head is on my sister's 
bosom, and her arm is around my mother's 
neck, and at her feet is the baby of old 
time, and I can bear the parting from her, 
God be praised!" — And the star was shin- 
ing. 

Thus the child came to be an old man, 
and his once smooth face was wrinkled, 
and his steps were slow and feeble, and his 
back was bent. /\.nd one night as he lay 
upon his bed, his children standing round, 
he cried, as he cried so long ago: "I see 
the star!" 

They whispered one to another, "He is 
dying." And he said, "I am. My age is 
falling from me like a garment, and I move 
towards the star as a child. And O, m.y 
Father, now I thank Thee that it has so 
often opened to receive those dear ones 
who await me!" — 

And the star was shining; and it shines 
upon his grave. 

— Charles Dickens. 



WAS MERELY "WHISPERIN' BILL." 



^10 you're takin' the census, mister? 

^^ There's three of us livin' still. 

My wife, an' I, an' our only son, that folks 

call Whisperin' Bill; 
But Bill couldn't tell ye his name, sir, an' 

so it's hardly worth givin', 
For ye see a bullet killed his mind, an' left 

his body livin*. 



Set down for a minute, mister; ye see Bill 

was only fifteen 
At the time o' the war, an' as Hkely a boy as 

ever this world has seen; 
An' what with the news of battles lost, the 

speeches an' all the noise, 
I guess every farm in the neighborhood 

lost a part of its crop o' boys. 



228 



PATHETIC AND HOMELIKE. 



'Twas harvest-time when Bill left home; 

every stalk in the fields o' rye 
Seemed to stand tip-top to see him off an' 

wave him a fond good-bye; 
His sweetheart was here with some other 

girls — the sassy little Miss! 
An' pretendin' she wanted to whisper 'n 

his ear, she gave him a rousin' kiss. 

Oh, he was a handsome feller, an' tender 

an' brave an' smart. 
An' tho' he was bigger than I was, the boy 

had a woman's heart. 
I couldn't control my feehn's, but I tried 

with all my might. 
An' his mother an' me stood a-cryin' till 

Bill was out o' sight. 

His mother she often told him when she 

knew he was goin' away, 
That God would take care o' him, maybe, 

if he didn't forgit to pray; 
An' on the bloodiest battle-fields, when 

bullets whizzed in the air^ 
An' Bill was a-fightin' desperit, he used to 

whisper a prayer. 

Oh, his comrades has often told me that 

Bill never flinched a bit, 
When every second a gap in the ranks told 

where a ball had hit. 
An' one night when the field was covered 

with the awful harvest o' war. 
They found my boy 'mongst the martyrs 

o' the cause he was fightin' for. 

His fingers were clutched in the dewy 

grass — oh, no, sir, he wasn't dead, 
But he lay sort of helpless an' crazy with 

a rifle-ball in his head ; 
An' if Bill had really died that night I'd 

give all I've got worth givin'; 
For ye see the bullet had killed his mind 

an' left his body livin'. 



An officer wrote an' told us how the boy 
had been hurt in the fight, 

But he said that the doctors reckoned they 
could bring him round all right, 

An' then we heard from a neighbor, dis- 
abled at Malvern Hill, 

That he thought in the course of a week or 
so he'd be comin' home with Bill. 

We was that anxious t' see him we'd set 

up an' talk o' nights 
Till the break o' day had dimmed the stars 

an' put out the northern lights; 
We waited an' watched for a month or 

more, an' the Summer was nearly past. 
When a letter came one day that said 

they'd started for home at last. 

I'll never forgit the day Bill came — 'twas 

harvest-time again — 
An' the air-bloom over the yellow fields 

was sweet with the scent o' the grain; 
The door-yard was full o' the neighbors, 

who had come to share our joy, 
An' all of us sent up a mighty cheer at the 

sight o' that soldier boy. 

An' all of a sudden somebody said: "My 

God! don't the boy know his mother?" 
An' Bill stood a-whisperin', fearful like, 

an' starin' from one to another: 
"Don't be afraid. Bill," said he to himself, 

as he stood in his coat o' blue, 
"Why, God'U take care o' you, Bill; God'll 

take care o' you." 

He seemed to be loadin' an' firin' a gun, 

an' to act like a man who hears 
The awful roar o' the battle-field a-soundin' 

in his ears; 
I saw that the bullet had touched his brain 

an' somehow made it blind, 
With the picture o' war before his eyes an' 

the fear o' death in his mind. 



PATHETIC AND HOMELIKE. 



229 



I grasped his hand, an' says I to Bill, 

"Don't ye remember me? 
I'm yer father — don't ye know me? How 

frightened ye seem to be!" 
But the boy kep' a-whisperin' to himself, 

as if 'twas all he knew, 
"God'll take care o' you, Bill; God'll take 

care o' you." 

He's never known us since that day, nor 
his sweetheart, an' never will: 

Father an' mother an' sweetheart- are all 
the same to Bill. 



An' many's the time his mother sets up the 

whole night through, 
An' smooths his head, and says: "Yes, Bill, 

God'll take care o' you." 

Unfortunit? Yes, but we can't complain. 

It's a livin' death more sad 
When the body chngs to a life o' shame an' 

the soul has gone to the bad; 
An' Bill is out o' the reach o'' harm an' 

danger of every kind. 
We only take care of his body, but God 

takes care of his mind. 



OLD AND BLIND. 



fAM old and blind! 
Men point at me as smitten by God's 
frown ; 
Afflicted and deserted of my kind; 
Yet I am not cast down. 

I am weak, yet strong; 
I murmur not that I no longer see; 
Poor, old, and helpless, I the more belong, 

Father Supreme, to Thee. 

Merciful One! 

When men are farthest, then Thou art most 

near; 
W^hen friends pass by me, and my weakness 

shun, 

Thy chariot I hear. 

Thy glorious face 
Is leaning toward me; and its holy light 
Shines in upon my lonely dwelling place — 

And there is no more night. 

On my bended knee 
I recognize Thy purpose clearly shown: 
My vision thou hast dimmed, that I may see 

Thyself — Thyself alone. 

1 have naught to fear: 

This darkness is the shadow of Thy wing; 
Beneath it I am almost sacred; here 
Can come no evil thing. 



Oh! I seem to stand 
Trembling where foot of mortal ne'er hath 

been, 
Wrapped in the radiance of Thy sinless 
land, 

Which eye hath never seen. 

Visions come and go; 
Shapes of resplendent beauty round me 

throng; 
From angel lips I seem to hear the flow 

Of soft and holy song. . 

Is it nothing now. 
When Heaven is opening on my sightless 

• eyes? 
When airs from Paradise refresh my brow, 

The earth in darkness lies. 

In a purer clime 
My being fills with rapture — waves of 

thought 
Roll in upon my spirit — strains sublime 

Break over me unsought. 

Give me now my lyre! 
I feel the stirrings of a gift divine. 
Within my bosom glows unearthly fire, 

Lit by no skill of mine. 

— Milton. 




A HOME LIBRAEY OF GOOD BOOKS. 



RELIGIOUS AND SUBLIME. 



jr iP 



'ELIGION is the source of the great- 
l?\ ^st consolation to the afflicted, the 
sorrowing and those who suffer. Thomas 
Moore, sweetest of the Irish poets, says : 

O Thou who driest the mourner's tear. 
How dark this world would be, 

If, when deceived and wounded here, 
We could not fly to Thee ! 

The friends who in our sunshine live 
When winter comes are flown, 

And he who has but tears to give 
Must weep those tears alone. 

But Thou wilt heal the broken heart, 
Which, like the plants that throw 



Their fragrance from the wounded part, 
Breathes sweetness out of woe. 

When joy no longer soothes or cheers, 

And e'en the hope that threw 
A moment's sparkle o'er our tears 

Is dimmed and vanished too, 

O who could bear life's stormy doom, 

Did not Thy wing of love 
Come brightly wafting through the gloom 

Our peace-branch from above? 

Then sorrow touched by Thee grows bright 

With more than rapture's ray. 
As darkness shows us worlds of light 

We never saw by day. 



THE BOOKS OF THE BIBLE. 



N Genesis the world was made ; 
In Exodus the march is told; 
Leviticus contains the law ; 

In Numbers are the tribes enrolled. 
In Deuteronomy again 

We're urged to keep God's law alone ; 
And these five books of Moses make 
The oldest writings that are known. 

Brave Joshua to Canaan leads ; 

In Judges oft the Jews rebel ; 
We read of David's name in Ruth 

And First and Second Samuel. 
In First and Second Kings we read 

How bad the Hebrew state became ; 
In First and Second Chronicles 

Another history of the same. 
In Ezra captive Jews return, 



And Nehemiah builds the wall ; 
Queen Esther saves her race from death, 
These books "historical" we call. 

In Job we read of patient faith ; 

The Psalms and David's songs of praise ; 
The Proverbs are to make us wise ; 

Ecclesiastes next portrays 
How fleeting earthly pleasures are ; 

The Song of Solomon is all 
About the love of Christ ; and these 

Five books "devotional" we call. 

Isaiah tells of Christ to come. 

While Jeremiah tells of woe, 
And in his Lamentations mourns 

The Holy City's overthrow. 
Ezekiel speaks of mysteries, 

And Daniel foretells Kings of old; 



231 



232 



RELIGIOUS AND SUBLIME. 



Hosea calls men to repent ; 
In Joel blessings are foretold. 

Amos tells of wrath ; and Edom 

Obadiah's sent to warn ; 
While Jonah shows that Christ should die, 

And Micah where He should be born. 
In Nahum Nineveh is seen; 

In Habakkuk Chaldea's guilt ; 
In Zephaniah Judah's sins ; 

In Haggai the Temple's built, 
Zachariah speaks of Christ, 

And Malachi, of John, His sign. 
The prophets number seventeen, 

And all the books are thirty-nine. 

Matthew, Mark, and Luke, and John, 
Tell what Christ did in every place ; 

Acts show what the Apostles did, 

And Romans how we're saved by grace. 



Corinthians instructs the church, 

Galatians shows us faith alone, 
Ephesians true love ; and in 

Philippians God's grace is shown. 
Colossians tells us more of Christ, 

And Thessalonians of the end ; 
In Timothy and Titus both 

Are rules for pastors to attend. 

Philemon Christian friendship shows ; 

Then Hebrews clearly tells us how all 
The Jewish law prefigured Christ ; 

And these epistles are by Paul. 
James shows that faith by works must live. 

And Peter urges steadfastness, 
While John exhorts to Christian love. 

For those who have it God will bless. 
Jude shows the end of evil men, 

And Revelation tells of heaven. 
This ends the whole New Testament, 

And all the books are twenty-seven. 



CURIOUS LITERARY COMPOSITION. 



HIS is one of the most curious literary 
_ }f compositions known. The initial let- 
ters spell "My Boast is in the Glorious Cross 
of Christ," and the words in italics, when 
read on the left-hand side from top to bot- 
tom, and on the right-hand side from bot- 
tom to top, form the Lord's Prayer com- 
plete : 

Make known the gospel truth, our Father 
King ; 
Yield up Thy grace, dear Father, from 
above ; 
Bless us with hearts which feelingly can 
sing: 
"Our life Thou art iorcvcr, God of 
Love." 
Assuage our grief in love for Christ, we 
pray, 
Since the Prince of Heaven and Glory 
died. 



Took all sins and hallowed the display, 

Infinite being, first man, and then was 
crucified. 
Stupendous God ! Thy grace and pozuer 
make known ; 

In Jesus' name let all the world rejoice, 
Now labor in Thy Heavenly kingdom own. 

That blessed kingdom^ for Thy saints the 
choice 
How vile to come to Thee is all our cry ; 

Enemies to Thyself and all that's Thine; 
Graceless our will, we live for vanity ; 

Loathing the very being, evil in design^- 
O God, Thy will be done from earth to 
Heaven ; 

Reclining on the gospel let us live. 
In earth from sin delivered and forgiven. 

Oh ! as Thyself, but teach us to forgive ; 
Unless its power temptation doth destroy, 

Sure is our fall into the depths of woe. 



RELIGIOUS AND SUBLIME. 



233 



Carnal in mind, we have not a glimpse of 
joy 
Raised against Heaven; in us no hope we 
know 
O give us grace, and lead us on the way ; 
Shine on ns with Thy love, and give us 
peace. 
Self, and this sin that rises against us, slay, 
Oh, grant each day our trespasses may 
cease ; 



Forgive our evil deeds, that oft we do; 

Convince us daily of them, to our shame ; 
Help us with Heavenly bread, forgive us, 
too. 
Recurrent lusts; and we'll adore Thy 
name. 
In Thy forgiveness we as saints can die, 

Since for us and our trespasses so high, 
Thy Son, our Saviour, died on Calvary. 



CHARITY AS DEFINED BY THE BIBLE. 



I HOUGH I speak with the tongues of 
men and of angels, and have not char- 
ity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tink- 
ling cymbal. And though I have the gift of 
prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and 
all knowledge ; and though I have all faith, 
so that I could remove mountains, and have 
not charity, I am nothing. And though I 
bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and 
though I give my body to be burned, and 
have not charity, it profiteth me nothing. 

Charity suffereth 1-ong, and is kind ; char- 
ity envieth not ; charity vaunteth not itself, 
is not puffed up, doth not behave itself un- 
seemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily 
provoked, thinketh no evil ; rejoiceth not in 
iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth ; beareth 
all things, believeth all things, hopeth all 



things, endureth all things. Charity never 
faileth : but whether there be prophecies, 
they shall fail ; whether there be tongues, 
they shall cease ; whether there be knowl- 
edge, it shall vanish away. For we know in 
part, and we prophesy in part. But when 
that which is perfect is come, then that 
which is in part shall be done away. 

When I was a child, I spake as a child, 
I understood as a child, I thought as a child : 
but when I became a man," I put away child- 
ish things. For now we see through a glass, 
darkly ; but then face to face : now I know 
in part ; but then shall I know even as also 
I am known. And now abideth faith, hope, 
charity, these three; but the greatest of 
these is charity. 



MORNING HYMN IN PARADISE. 



fHESE are thy glorious words. Parent 
of Good, 
Thus wondrous fair — thyself how won- 
drous then ! 
Unspeakable ! who sitt'st above these heav- 
ens 

PSALM 

I HE earth is the Lord's, and the fulness 
|<^ thereof; the world, and they that 

dwell therein : 

For He hath founded it upon the seas, 

and established it upon the floods. 



To us invisible, or dimly seen 

'Midst these thy lowest works. 

Yet these declare thy goodness be3^ond 

thought . 
And power divine ! 

— Milton. 

XXIV. 

Who shall ascend into the hill of the 
Lord ? or who shall stand in His holy place ? 

He that hath clean hands, and a pure 
heart ; who hath not lifted up his soul unto 
vanity, nor sworn deceitfully. 



234 



RELIGIOUS AND SUBLIME. 



He shall receive the blessing from the 
Lord, and righteousness from the God of 
his salvation. 

This is the generation of them that seek 
Him, that seek Thy face, O Jacob. Selah. 

Lift up your heads, O ye gates; and be 
ye lifted up, ye everlasting doors; and the 
King of glory shall come in. 



Who is this King of glory? The Lord 
strong and mighty, the Lord mighty in bat- 
tle. 

Lift up your heads, O ye gates ; even lift 
them up, ye everlasting doors; and the 
King of glory shall come in. 

Who is this King of glory ? The Lord of 
hosts, he is the King of glory. Selah. 



IMMORTALITY. 

O listen, man ! 

A voice within us speaks that startling 
word, 

"Man, thou shalt never die !" Celestial 
voices 

Hymn it into our souls ; according harps, 

By angel fingers touched, when the mild 
stars 

Of morning sang together, sound forth still 

The song of our great immortality. 

Thick-clustering orbs, and this our fair do- 
main, 

The tall, dark mountains and the deep-toned 
seas. 

Join in this solemn, universal song. 



O listen ye, our spirits ; drink it in 
From all the air. 'Tis in the gentle moon- 
light; 



'Tis floating midst Day's setting glories; 

Night, 
Wrapped in her sable robe, with silent step 
Comes to our bed, and breathes it in our 

ears: 
Night, and the dawn, bright day, and 

thoughtful eve, 
All time, all bounds, the limitless expanse, 
As one vast mystic instrument, are touched 
By an unseen, living Hand ; and conscious 

chords 
Quiver with joy in this great jubilee. 
The dying hear it ; and, as sounds of 

earth 
Grow dull and distant, wake their passing 

souls 
To mingle in this heavenly harmony. 

— Dana. 



NEARER HOME. 



NE sweetly solemn thought 
Comes to me o'er and o'er: 
I'm nearer my home to-day 
Than I ever have been before. 

Nearer my Father's house. 
Where the many mansions be ; 

Nearer the great white throne, 
Nearer the crystal sea ; 

Nearer the bound of life. 

Where we lay our burdens down ; 
Nearer leaving the cross, 

Nearer gaining the crown. 



But the waves of that silent sea 

Roll dark before my sight. 
That brightly the other side 

Break on a shore of light. 

O, if my mortal feet 

Have almost gained the brink, 
If it be I am nearer home 

Even to-day than I think, 

Father, perfect my trust. 

Let my spirit feel in death 
That her feet are firmly set 

On the Rock of a living faith. 

— Phoebe Gary. 



RELIGIOUS AND SUBLIME. 



n^ 



THERE IS NO DEATH. 



HERE is no death ! The stars go 
down 

To rise upon some fairer shore ; 
And bright in heaven's jewelea crown 
They shine for evermore. 

There is no death ! The dust we tread 
Shall change beneath the summer showers 

To golden grain or mellowed fruit 
Or rainbow-tinted flowers, 

The granite rocks disorganize, 

And feed the hungry moss they bear ; 

The forest leaves drink daily life 
From out the viewless air. 

There is no death ! The leaves may fall, 
-And flowers may fade and pass away; 
They only wait through wintry hours 
The coming of the May. 

There is no death ! An angel form 
Walks o'er the earth with silent tread ; 

He bears our best-loved things away, 
And then we call them "dead." 



He leaves our hearts all desolate; 

He plucks our fairest, sweetest flowers; 
Transplanted into bliss, they now 

Adorn immortal bowers. 

The birdlike voice, whose joyous tones 
Made glad these scenes of sin and strife, 

Sings now an everlasting song 
Around the tree of life. 

Where'er He sees a smile too bright, 
Or heart too pure for taint and vice, 

He bears it to that world of light, 
To dwell in paradise. 

Born unto that undying life. 

They leave us but to come again; 

With joy we welcome them the same, — 
Except their sin and pain. 

And ever near us, though unseen, 
The dear immortal spirits tread; 

For all the boundless universe 
Is life — there are no dead. 

— J. L. McCreery. 



"LEST WE FORGET." 



/^ OD of our fathers, known of old — 
\^ Lord of our far-flung battle-line — 
Beneath Whose awful Hand we hold 
Dominion over palm and pine — 

Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet. 
Lest we forget — lest we forget ! 

The tumult and the shouting dies — 

The captains and the kings depart — 
Still stands Thine ancient Sacrifice, 
An humble and a contrite heart. 
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, 
Lest we forget — lest we forget ! 



Far-called our navies melt away — 
On dune and headland sinks the 

Lo, all our pomp of yesterday 
Is one with Nineveh and Tyre ! 



fire- 



Judge of the Nations, spare us yet, 
Lest we forget — lest we forget ! 

If, drunk with sight of power, we loose 
Wild tongues that have not Thee in 
awe — 
Such boasting as the Gentiles use 
Or lesser breeds without the law — 
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, 
Lest we forget — lest we forget ! 

For heathen heart that puts her trust 
In reeking tube and iron shard — 
All valiant dust that builds on dust, 

And guarding calls not Thee to guard — 
For frantic boast and foolish word, 
Thy mercy on Thy people. Lord ! 
Amen. — Rudyard Kipling. 




FRANCES E. WILLARD, known the world over in connection with temperance work, 
and associated for so many years with Lady Somerset, the leader of the total abstinence 
crusade in England, was President of the National Women's Christian Temperance Union 
of the United States nearly twenty years. She was born at Churchville, New York, in 
1839, and died in New York City in 1898. She was President of the World's Christian 
Temperance Union, of which she was the founder ; was the author of several books and a 
public platform and pulpit speaker of much force. 



RELIGIOUS AND SUBLIME. 



237 



WHITE LIVES FOR MEN AND WOMEN. 



m RANGES E. WILLARD, head of 
the Woman's Ghristian Temperance 
Union for many years, believed in "white 
lives" for both men and women; and that 
men should be as pure in thought and deed 
as they required women to be. She was, 
all in all, one of the remarkable women of 
the Nineteenth Gentury, and accomplished 
great good : 

* * * "This gentle age into which 
we have happily been born, is attuning the 
twain whom God hath made for such great 
destiny, to higher harmonies than any other 
age has known, by a reform in the denatu- 
ralizing methods of a civilization largely 
based on force, by which the boy and girl 
have been sedulously trained apart. They 
are now being set side by side in school, in 
church, in government, even as God sets 
male and female everywhere side by side 
throughout his realm of law, and has de- 
clared them one throughout his realm of 
grace. Meanwhile, the conquest, through in- 
vention, of matter by mind, lifts woman 
from the unnatural subjugation of the age 
of force. In the presence of a Gorliss en- 
gine, which she could guide as well as he, 
but which is an equal mystery to them both, 
men and women learn that they are fast 
equalizing on the plane of matter, as a pre- 
diction of their confessed equalization upon 
the planes of mind and of morality. 

"We are beginning to train those with 
each other who were formed for each other, 
and the American Home, with its Ghristian 
method of a two-fold headship, based on 



laws natural and divine, is steadily rooting 
out all that remains of the mediaeval conti- 
nental and harem philosophies concerning 
this greatest problem of all time. The true 
relations of that complex being whom God 
created by uttering the mystic thought that 
had in it the potency of Paradise : Tn our 
own image let us make man, and let them 
have dominion over all the earth,' will ere 
long be ascertained by means of the new 
correlation and attuning, each to other, of 
a more complete humanity upon the Ghrist- 
like basis that 'there shall be no more 
curse.' * * * 

"Woman is the embodiment of what shall 
be. In an age of force, woman's greatest 
grace was to cling ; in this age of peace she 
doesn't cling much, but is every bit as tender 
and as sv>eet as if she did. * * '-^ 

"The personal habits of men and women 
must reach the same high level. On a low 
plane and for selfish ends primeval ■ and 
mediaeval man wrought out, with fiercest 
cruelty, virtue as the only tolerated estate 
of one-half the human race. On a high 
plane Ghristianity, working through mod- 
ern womanhood, shall yet make virtue the 
only tolerated estate of the other half of the 
human race, and may Heaven speed that 
day! A woman knows that she must. walk 
the straight line of a true life or men will 
look upon her with disdain. A man needs, 
for his own best good, to find that in the 
eyes of women, just the same is true of 
him." 



EDUCATION NECESSARY FOR WOMEN. 



LIZABETH GADY STANTON, 
possessing one of the most brilliant 
minds known among American fair ones, 
was ever an advocate of "woman's 
rights." She believed in the advancement 



of women through the medium of educa- 
tion, not only as an aid in "getting on" but 
as a necessity in securing self-reliance : 

"The strongest reason for giving women 
all the opportunities for higher education, 




MRS. ELIZABETH CADY STANTON,, a woman of remarkable oratorical gifts, was 
born at Johnstown, N. Y., in 1815, and afterwards graduated from Miss Willard's celebrated 
Seminary at Troy, N. Y. Her family was a prominent one during the Revolutionary 
period, several of her ancestors having fought in the ranks of the patriots under Washing- 
ton. Her father, Judge Daniel Cady, was a well-known jurist. She devoted her life to 
the betterment of the condition of the women of the United States. 



RELIGIOUS AND SUBLIME. 



239 



for the full development of her faculties and 
forces of mind and body, for giving her 
the most enlarged freedom of thought and 
action ; a complete emancipation from all 
forms of bondage, of custom, dependence, 
superstition ; from all the crippling in- 
fluences of fear, is the solitude and personal 
responsibility of her own individual life. 
The strongest reason why we ask for wo- 
man a voice in the Government, under 
which she lives ; in the religion she is asked 
to believe ; equality in social life, where she 
is the chief factor ; a place in the trades and 
professions, where she may earn her bread, 
is because of her birthright to self-sov- 
ereignty; because, as an individual, she 
must rely on herself. No matter how much 
women prefer to lean, to be protected and 
supported, nor how much men desire to 
have them do so, they must make the voy- 
age of life alone, and for safety in an emer- 
gency, they must know something of the 
laws of navigation. * * * 

"To appreciate the importance of fitting 
every human soul for independent action, 
think for a moment of the immeasurable 
solitude of self. We come into the world 
alone, unlike all who have gone before us ; 
we leave it alone, under circumstances pe- 
culiar to ourselves. 



* * * "Alike mid the greatest triumphs 
and darkest tragedies of life, we walk alone. 
On the divine heights of human attainment, 
eulogized and worshiped as a hero, or saint, 
we stand alone. In ignorance, poverty and 
vice, as a pauper or criminal alone we starve 
or steal, alone we suffer the sneers and re- 
buffs of our fellows, alone we are hunted 
and wounded through dark courts and al- 
leys, in by-ways and highways, alone we 
stand at the judgment seat, alone in the 
prison cell we lament our crimes and mis- 
fortunes, and alone we expiate them on the 
gallows. In hours like these we realize the 
awful solitude of individual life, its pains, 
its penalties, and its responsibilities ; hours in 
which the youngest and most helpless are 
thrown on their own resources for guidance 
and consolation. 

"To throw obstacles in the way of a com- 
plete education, is like putting out the eyes, 
to deny the rights of property is like cut- 
ting off the hands, to deny political equality 
is to rob the ostracized of all self-respect; 
of credit in the market place ; of recompense 
in the world- of work; of a voice in those 
who make and administer the law ; a choice 
in the jury before whom they are tried, and 
in the judge who decides their punishment." 



SOME OF MOODY'S SAYINGS. 



EV. DWIGHT L. MOODY was an 
impassioned orator of the most pro- 
nounced type ; apt in illustration, fervid in 
appeal and eloquent to a degree, few could 
resist him. He attempted no lofty flights, 
but, being natural at all times, was effective 
with all classes. During one of his ser- 
mons he gave an example of a mother's 
love: 

"I know a mother who, like Christ, gave 
her life for love. 

"When the California gold fever broke 
out, a man went there, leaving his wife in 



New England with his boy. As soon as 
he got on and was successful he was to 
send for them. It was a long time before 
he succeeded, but at last he got money 
enough to send for them. The wife's heart 
leaped for joy She took her boy to New- 
York, got on board a Pacific steamer, and 
sailed away to San Francisco. They had 
not been long at sea before the cry of 'Fire ! 
fire!' rang through the ship, and rapidly it 
gained on them. There was a powder mag- 
azine on board, and the captain knew the 
moment the fire reached the powder every 




REV. DWIGHT L. MOODY, the great evangelist, was born February 5, 1837, at 
Northfield, Massachusetts, where he also died sixty-three years later after a life filled with 
good deeds and noble works. When Dwight was but four years old, his father died. In 
1871 he and Ira D. Sankey began a series of revival meetings in this country, afterwards 
going to England, Ireland and Scotland, where they drew such crowds as had never been 
known before in the history of the world. 



RELIGIOUS AND SUBLIME. 



241 



man, woman and child must perish. They 
got out the Hfe boats, but they were too 
small. In a minute they were overcrowded. 
The last one was just pushing away, when 
the mother pleaded with them to take her 
and her boy. 

" 'No,' they said, 'we have got as many 
as we c^n hold.' 

"She entreated them so earnestly, that 
at last they said they would take one more. 
Do you think she leaped into that boat and 
left her boy to die ? No ! She seized her 
boy, gave him one last hug, kissed him, 
and dropped him over into the boat. 

" 'My boy,' she said, 'if you live to see 
your father, tell him that I died in your 
place.' That is a faint type of what Christ 
has done for us. 

"There was a little boy who went to one 
of the mission Sunday-schools. His father 



moved to another part of the city, about 
five miles away, and every Sunday that boy 
came past thirty or forty Sunday-schools 
to the one he attended. And one Sunday a 
lady, who was out collecting scholars for a 
Sunday-school, met him and asked him why 
he went so far, past so many schools. 

" 'There are plenty of others,' said she, 
'just as good.' 

" 'They may be as good,' said the boy, 'but 
they are not so good for me.' 

" 'Why not ?' she asked. 

" 'Because they love a fellow over there,' 
he answered. 

"Ah ! love won him. 'Because they love a 
fellow over there !' How easy it is to reach 
people through love ! Sunday-school teach- 
ers should win the affections of their schol- 
ars if they wish to lead them to Christ." 



SAM JONES ON SHINING LIGHTS. 



HERE are many who maintain that 
Sam Jones, the Southern revivalist, 
is not an orator, and yet he is, in the truest 
sense of that much-abused term. He fol- 
lows no beaten path, but marks a way of 
his own and follows it, thus showing the 
genius of originality. One of his most not- 
able sermons was on "Let Your Light 
Shine :" 

"I have kicked the bushel off a great 
many men's lights, and they would fall out 
with me and say I put their light out. And 
I didn't. Their light had gone out over ten 
years before, when they went and turned 
that bushel down over it. It went out the 
minute they turned that bushel over it. 
Sometimes it is the bushel of neglect. Some- 
times it is the bushel of wilful transgres- 
sion. Sometimes it is the bushel of avarice. 
And there are a thousand bushels that will 
be furnished you at any time you Vv-ant one 
io turn down over your light. And at any 
moment, if you put a bushel over your light 



— if your light was burning and you have 
taken and turned a bushel and put over it — 
you will find your light is out. And don't 
be foolish enough to think that the man 
that removed the bushel put your light out. 
It was the bushel turned down over it that 
put the light out. 

"Never mind about other people's lights. 
Look after your own light. Some clergy- 
men, instead of shedding their own light 
by preaching Christ, are looking after false 
lights. 

"Church members should let their lights 
shine by their actions. Win the sinner by 
love. A worldly man recently entered one 
of the churches in Indianapolis, and was al- 
lowed to stand fifteen minutes in the aisle. 
Then he walked around to another aisle. 
No Christian offered him a seat. By ancl 
by, after he got tired out standing, he 
leaned over to a brother who had his light 
under a bushel, and ventured to inquire : 

" 'What church is this?' 



242 



RELIGIOUS AND SUBLIME. 



" 'Christ's church, sir — Christ's,' said the 
church member, impatiently. 

"'Is he in?' asked the man, meekly. 
[Laughter.] 

"The churchman left his light under the 
bushel, and went and got the stranger a 
seat. He was so mad about it that wHen he 
got back to his bushel, the light was out. 
[Laughter.] 



"How many Christians here to-night 
have put out their light ? 

"Many clergymen, instead of making 
Christ shine, are trying to shine themselves. 
Their sermons are not to save sinners, but 
they are made to win the praise of men. 
They read well, but they don't save 
souls." 



ADORATION OF THE CREATOR. 



F old hast Thou laid the foundation 
of the earth : and the heavens are 
the work of thy hands. They shall perish, 
but thou shalt endure: yea, all of them 
shall wax old like a garment; as a vesture 
shalt thou change them, and they shall be 
changed: but thou art the same, and thy 
years shall have no end. 

Before the mountains were brought 
forth, or ever thou hadst formed the earth 
and the world, even from everlasting to 
everlasting, thou art God. 



Thou turnest man to destruction; and 
sayest, "Return, ye children of men." For 
a thousand years in thy sight are but as 
yesterday when it is past, and as a watch 
in the night. 

Thou carriest them away as with a flood; 
they are as a sleep: in the morning, they 
are like grass which groweth up. In the 
morning it flourisheth, and groweth up; 
in the evening it is cut down, and wither- 
eth. — Psalms. 



A CREED GOOD ENOUGH FOR ALL. 



f 



HOLD that Christian grace abounds 
Where charity is seen ; that when 

We climb to heaven, 'tis on the rounds 
Of love to men. 



I hold all else, named piety, 

A selfish scheme, a vain pretense; 

Where center is not, can there be 
Circumference? 

This I moreover hold, and dare 

Affirm where'er my rhyme may go,— 

Whatever things be sweet or fair, 
Love makes them so. 

Whether it be the lullabies 

That charm to rest the nursing bird. 



Or that sweet confidence of sighs 
And blushes, made without a word. 

Whether the dazzling and the flush 
Of softly sumptuous garden bowers, 

Or by some cabin door, a bush 
Of ragged flowers. 

'Tis not the wide phylactery, 

Nor stubborn fasts, nor stated prayers. 
That makes us saints; we judge the tree 

By what it bears. 

And when a man can live apart 
From works, on theologic trust, 

I know the blood about his heart 
Is dry as dust. 

— Alice Gary. 



RELIGIOUS AND SUBLIME. 
PRAYERS THAT WERE ANSWERED. 



243 



^ PRAYED for riches, and achieved 
'1^ success, — 

All that I touched turned into gold. 
Alas! 
My cares were greater, and my peace was 
less 
When that wish came to pass. 

I prayed for glory; and I heard my name 
Sung by sweet children and by hoary 
men. 
But ah! the hurts, the hurts that come with 
fame ! 
I was not happy then. 



I prayed for love, and had my soul's desire; 

Through quivering heart and body and 
through brain 
There swept the flame of its devouring fire; 

And there the scars remain, 

I prayed for a contented mind. At length 
Great light upon my darkened spirit 
burst. 
Great peace fell on me, also, and great 
strength, 
Oh! had that prayer been first! 

— Ella Wheeler Wilcox. 



BIBLE READING. 



ofJ^T will be almost universally conceded 
^ that no other language is so rich in 
meaning as the language of the Bible. 
Great leading truths are but the branches 
upon which cluster the most varied prac- 
tical lessons of wisdom and virtue. 

Almost whole books of the sacred writ- 
ings are marked in each successive sen- 
tence with this abundant fruitfulness of 
meaning. With but an equal amount of 
attention and preparation, it is, therefore, 
but natural that there would be, corre- 
spondingly, a greater failure m giving full 
and complete expression to the language of 
the Bible than to the language of human 
origin. 

In the most ordinary forms of speech, a 
part of the sense is constantly lost for want 
of a proper adaptation in the modulations 
of the voice. How much more this must be 
true where almost every word has an im- 
portant bearing upon the whole, thus re- 
quiring a constantly changing variety of 
tone, time, stress and slide, in giving com- 
pleteness to the sense. Here may be based 
two great classes of evils in expression. 



I St. That form of expression which yields 
only a part of the meaning. We have a 
vast field of utterance, marked by various 
degrees of monotony, in which only a part 
of the meaning is brought out. No injus- 
tice may be done to that which is said, but 
it is not all said. Important words are 
lost in the general tone. The lights and 
shades of modulation are slighted, thus rob- 
bing the author of much that his words 
should have been made to convey. 
Through ignorance of the power of these 
changes, or the neglect of them, precious 
utterances are rendered fruitless and 
barren. 

2d. A perversion of the true meaning, A 
quality of voice at variance with the senti- 
ment, an improper pitch, a misplaced em- 
phasis, inappropriate time, a false slide or 
inflection, may so utterly destrby the sense, 
and misrepresent the meaning as to divert 
the words entirely from their meaning. 

We believe it should be made the con- 
scientious practice of every reader of the 
Bible, first to satisfy his own mind as to 
the meaning of each passage, and then to 



244 



RELIGIOUS AND SUBLIME. 



see that his rendering will properly repre- 
sent that meaning. 

The following anecdote in point here, 
may suggest some important lessons in 
this direction: 

A student at the Theological Seminary at 
Andover, who had an excellent opinion of 
his own talent, on one occasion asked the 
professor who taught elocution at the 
time, — 

"What do I especially need to learn in 
this department?" 

"You ought first learn to read," said the 
professor. 

"Oh, I can read now," repHed the stu- 
dent. 

The professor handed the young man a 
Testament, and pointing to the twenty-fifth 
verse of the twenty-fourth chapter of 
Luke's Go-spel, he asked him to read that. 
The student read, "Then he said unto them, 
O fools, and slow of heart to believe all 
that the prophets have spoken." 

"Ah," said the professor, "they were 
fools for believing the prophets, were 
they?" ■ 

Of course that was not right, and so the 
young man tried again. 

"O fools, and slow of heart to believe all 
that the prophets have spoken." 

"The prophets, then, were sometimes 
liars?" asked the professor. 

"No. O fools, and slow of heart to 
believe all that the prophets have spoken." 

"According to this reading," the profes- 
sor suggested, "the prophets were noto- 
rious liars." 

This was not a satisfactory conclusion, 
and so another trial was made. "O fools, 
and slow of heart to beHeve all that the 
prophets have spoken." 

"I see now," said the professor, "the 
prophets wrote the truth, but they spoke 
lies." 

This last criticism discouraged the stu- 



dent, and he acknowledged that he did not 
know how to read. The difficulty lies in 
the fact that the words "slow of heart to 
believe," applies to the whole of the latter 
part of the sentence, and emphasis on any 
particular word entirely destroys the mean- 
ing. 

There are thousands of passages that 
may be rendered meaningless or even 
ridiculous by the change of emphasis alone 
upon a single word. 

In addition, to this common want of ex- 
pression, there are a variety of styles, in 
popular use, peculiar to Bible reading, 
against which we utter a most respectful, 
though a most earnest protest. 

1st. Professional Style. 

This is capable of sub-division into a 
number of varieties, but with so little in 
favor of either, as to give no ground for 
distinction in the general objection. The 
reader should avoid any style that is pro- 
fessional, if for no other reason than that 
it is professional. 

2d. Inflated Style. 

There is that form of utterance which 
says in the tone and manner, "I am com- 
missioned to handle this message. Behold 
me! Listen to me!" At which, great swell- 
ing sounds issue forth, with the unfortunate 
efifect that Divine words are lost in sound. 
We should ever recognize by a humility 
of tone and manner that the words are 
Jehovah's. 

3d. Pious Tone. 

We are not opposed to the utmost purity 
of voice, marked with a manly dignity and 
a becoming solemnity, but there prevails 
a variety of cant and whine which should 
fall under the same condemnation which 
God himself pronounces upon other lip 
service. The best gift which God gave to 
man in the flesh, is his manhood; and we 
will not believe that He meant we should 
lose that manhood when uttering His 



RELIGIOUS AND SUBLIME. 



245 



words. If ever it should glow and burn in 
all its Divine origin, it is when thus stand- 
ing in God's stead. 

4th. Trifling Style. 

This style, in contrast with professional 
dignity and excessive piety, is no less to be 
guarded against. Kings' messages, the 
proclamations of Chief Magistrates, the 
language of the wise and learned, claim a 
corresponding dignity of expression; how 
much more the words of Infinite Power 
and of Infinite Wisdom. 

It is evident that the very purpose of 
the Divine Word may be thwarted by the 
tone and manner. God has made his w^ord 
simple. Do not rob it of that simplicity 
by bringing in a profundity of expression. 
He has brought it down to the comprehen- 



sion of the human mind. Do not give such 
an inhuman utterance as to raise it up out 
of the reach of humanity. 

God has made it plain. Do not involve 
it in mystery by vacant, weird and profes- 
sional tones. God meant it for man. Do 
not read it to the angels. It is the word 
of the dear Heavenly Father, full of mercy 
and the tenderest affection. Do not read 
it as the message of an Absolute Monarch. 
Yet, it is God's word. Avoid that reckless 
vagabondish manner which so often marks 
the utterance of human language. 

It is God's truth, meant for man. Read 
it as of old they read "in the law of God, 
distinctly, and gave the sense, and caused 
them to understand the reading." 

— /. IV. Shoemaker. 



ANGELS SHOULD RING CHRISTMAS BELL.S. 



ET the angels ring the bells, 

^ Christmas bells! 
They first brought the news from glory, 
First proclaimed on earth the story : 

Let the angels ring the bells. 
Brimming o'er with mirth and gladness. 
Tumbling, turning round in madness: 

Christmas bells! Christmas bells! 
Telling that, to shepherds told, 
In their midnight hymns of old — 
That sweet tale once sung by them; 
Christ is born in Bethlehem! 

Let the angels ring the bells, 

Christmas bells! 
Let them ring, on tiptoe standing: 
Let them pause, the bells high landing; 

Let the angels ring the bells. 
With their deep peals and sonorous, 
Blending in metallic chorus; 

Christmas bells! Christmas bells! 
Now to soft notes gently dwindling. 
Then again to rapture kindhng; 
Ne'er before such joy to them: 
Christ is born in Bethlehem! 



Let the children hear the bells, 

Christmas bells! 
With their romping shouts and laughter, 
Each the other running after; 

Let the children hear the bells! 
Do not dwell upon their foibles. 
Let them be to them as joy-bells! 

Christmas bells! Christmas bells! 
As they catch them, and glad listen, 
See the light in their eyes glisten; 
Give them gifts of toy or gem: 
Christ is born in Bethlehem! 

Let the aged hear the bells, 

Christmas bells! 
Deaf and palsied, downward stooping, 
Sad and lone, round fireside grouping, 

Let the aged hear the bells! 
They right well discern their meaning, 
Mem'ries of their childhood gleaming: 

Christmas bells! Christmas bells! 
They have heard them yearly ringing, 
Nearer their translation bringing: 
Sadly sweet the tale to them, 
Christ is born in Bethlehem! 



246 



RELIGIOUS AND SUBLIME. 



Let creation hear the bells, 

Christmas bells! 
Cease her sighing and her moaning, 
Cease her travail and her groaning: 

Let creation hear the bells! 
Christ has bought her man's redemption, 



Christ has brought her sin's exemption: 

Christmas bells! Christmas bells! 
Let her join them in their ringing; 
Let her break forth into singing. 
He her tide of woe shall stem: 
Christ, once born in Bethlehem! 

— Rev. J. E. Rankin. 



THE MANGER OF BETHLEHEM. 



I HERE'S a song in the air! 
There's a star in the sky! 
There's a mother's deep prayer 
And a baby's low cry! 
And the star rains its fire while the Beau- 
tiful sing, 
For the manger of Bethlehem cradles a 
King. 

There's a tumult of joy 
O'er the wonderful birth. 
For the virgin's sweet boy 
Is the Lord of the earth, 
Ay! the star rains its fire and the Beau- 
tiful sing, 
For the manger of Bethlehem cradles a 
Kinsf! 



In the light of that star 
Lie the ages impearled; 
And that song from afar 
Has swept over the world. 
Every hearth is aHame, and the Beau- 
tiful sing, 
In the homes of the nations that Jesus is 
King. 

We rejoice in the light. 
And we echo the song 
That comes down through the night 
From the heavenly throng. 
Ay! we shout to the lovely evangel they 

bring. 
And we greet in his cradle our Saviour and 
King. 



WHAT THE CYNIC SEES. 



^^ HE Cynic is one who never sees a 
yW7> good quality in a man, and never 
fails to see a bad one. He is the human 
owl, vigilant in darkness and blind to light, 
mousing for vermin, and never seeing noble 
game. 

The Cynic puts all human actions into 
only two classes — openly bad, and secretly 
bad. All virtue, and generosity, and disin- 
terestedness, are merely the appearance of 
good, but selfish at the bottom. 

His criticisms and innuendoes fall indis- 
criminately upon every lovely thing, like 
frost upon the flowers. If Mr. A. is pro- 
nounced a rehgious man, he will reply: 
Yes, on Sundays. Mr. B. has just joined the 
church: Certainly, the elections are com- 



ing on. The minister of the gospel is called 
an example of diligence: It is his trade. 
Such a man is generous: Of other men's 
money. This man is obliging: To lull sus- 
picion and cheat you. That man is upright: 
Because he is green. 

Thus his eye strains out every good qual- 
ity, and takes in only the bad. To him 
religion is hypocrisy, honesty a preparation 
for fraud, virtue only a want of opportunity, 
and undeniable purity, asceticism. 

It is impossible to indulge in such hab- 
itual severity of opinion upon our fellow- 
men without injuring the tenderness and 
delicacy of our own feelings. A man will 
be what his most cherished feelings are. 

— Beecher. 




GOOD BOOKS IN A WESTERN HOME. 



IN A SENTIMENTAL STRAIN. 



^ ^ 



SENTIMENT is a powerful factor in 
the shaping of our lives. Sentiment 
does not altogether mean the love of a 
youth for a maiden, although both are apt 
to be sentimental at that time; whatever 
stirs the emotions is sentimental in the 
truest sense. Read Charles Dickens' de- 
scription of the death of "Little Nell:" 

By little and little, the old man drew back 
towards the inner chamber, while these 
words were spoken. He pointed there, as 
he replied, with trembUng lips, — 

"You plot among you to wean my heart 
from her. You will never do that — never 
while I have life. I have no relative or 
friend but her — I never had — I never will 
have. She is all in all to me. It is too late 
to part us now." 

Waving them off with his hand, and call- 
ing softly to her as he went, he stole into 
the room. They who were left behind drew 
close together, and after a few whispered 
words, — not unbroken by emotion, or eas- 
ily uttered, — followed him. They moved 
so gently, that their footsteps made no 
noise, but there were sobs from among the 
group, and sounds of grief and mourning. 

For she was dead. There, upon her little 
bed, she lay at rest. The solemn stillness 
was no marvel now. 

She was dead. No sleep so beautiful and 
calm, so free from trace of pain, so fair to 
look upon. She seemed a creature fresh 
from the hand of God, and waiting for the 
breath of life; not one who had lived and 
suffered death. 

Her couch was dressed with here and 
there some winter berries and green leaves, 
gathered in a spot she had been used to 



favor. "When I die, put near me some- 
thing that has loved the light, and had 
the sky above it always." These were her 
words. 

She was dead. Dear, gentle, patient, 
noble Nell was dead. Her little bird — a 
poor slight thing the pressure of a finger 
would have crushed — was stirring nimbly 
in its cage; and the strong heart of its child- 
mistress was mute and motionless forever. 

Where were the traces of her early cares, 
her sufferings and fatigues? All gone. This 
was the true death before their weeping 
eyes. Sorrow was dead indeed in her, but 
peace and perfect happiness were born ; 
imaged in her tranquil beauty and profound 
repose. 

i\nd still her former self lay there, unal- 
tered in this change. Yes. The old fire- 
side had smiled on that same sweet face; it 
had passed like a dream through haunts of 
misery and care; at the door of the poor 
schoolmaster on the summer evening, be- 
fore the furnace fire upon the cold, wet 
night, at the still, dying boy^ there had been 
the same mild lovely look. So shall we 
know the angels in their majesty, after 
death. 

The old man held one languid arm in 
bis, and kept the small hand tight folded 
to his breast for warmth. It was the hand 
she had stretched out to him with her last 
smile — the hand that had led him on 
through all their wanderings. Ever and 
anon he passed it to his lips, then hugged 
it to his breast again, murmuring that it 
was warmer now; and as he said it, he 
looked, in agony, to those who stood 
around, as if imploring them to help her. 



248 



IN A SENTIMENTAL STRAIN. 



249 



She was dead and past all help, or need 
of it. The ancient rooms she had seemed 
to fill with life, even while her own 
was ebbing fast — the garden she had tended 
— the eyes she had gladdened — the noise- 
less haunts of many a thoughtless hour — 
the paths she had trodden as if it were but 
yesterday — could know her no more. 

"It is not," said the schoolmaster, as he 



bent down to kiss her on her cheek, and 
give his tears free vent — "it is not in this 
world that Heaven's justice ends. Think 
what it is compared with the world to which 
her young spirit has winged its early flight, 
and say, if one deliberate wish expressed in 
solemn terms above this bed could call her 
back to life, which of us would utter it!" 



JEAN ANDERSON, MY JOY, JEAN. 



fEAN ANDERSON, my joy, Jean, 
Just lay your loof in mine, 
An' let us talk thegither 

O' days of auld lang syne. 

The sun is gettin' low, Jean, 

An' death is drawin' near: 

'Tis growin' hard for baith to see, 

'Tis growin' hard to hear. 

Jean Anderson, my joy, Jean, 

I kenn'd ye lang ago. 
When ye were but a wee thing, 

That toddlin' roun' did go. 
An' I w'as but a child, Jean, 

A boastfu', boist'rous boy. 
That pulled ye in his wooden cart, 

Jean Anderson, my joy. 

Jean Anderson, my joy, Jean, 

I comp'nied ye to school ; 
Your basket hung between us. 

To keep the gowden rule; 
An' hameward when we strolled, Jean, 

It was a joy fu' sweet 
For us to gang our lane, and pluck 

Spring violets at our feet. 

Jean Anderson, my joy, Jean, 
When first we twa were wed. 

Your cheeks were like the blush rose, 
As dewy and as red; 

Your e'en were like the sky, Jean, 
As gentle and as blue; 



An' oh, your trustfu', wifely touch, 
It thrilled me through and through. 

Jean Anderson, my joy, Jean, 

Ye've been my anely lo'e; 
I lo'ed ye in your bairnheid ; 

I've lo'ed ye steadfast through; 
I lo'ed your girlhood curls, Jean; 

I lo'e the locks of snaw 
That Time has drifted on your head, 

An' spring will never thaw. 

Jean Anderson, my joy, Jean, 

Our bairns, they too are grown; 
An' roun' the cheerfu' ingle. 

Have wee things o' their own: 
Three lives, I think, we've lived, Jean, 

Since we were girl and bov — 
Our ain, our bairnies', and their bairns'- 

Jean Anderson, my joy. 

Jean Anderson, my joy, Jean, 

There is ane life beyon'. 
An', though I'm dull o' hearin', 

I seem to catch its soun' ; 
An', through the mist, I see, Jean, 

Heights o' that gowden Ian', 
Up which we baith shall mount to God, 

Led by His lo'in han'. 

Jean Anderson, my joy, Jean, 
It makes cauld bluid leap warm. 



250 



IN A SENTIMENTAL STRAIN. 



To think that Hame we're nearin', 
Beyon' life's beatin' storm; 

To think that there, at last, Jean, 
We'll lean upon His breast, 



Who gathers wearie, waitin' anes, 
An' gi'es them His ain Rest. 

— /. E. Rankin. 



"BETSY AND I ARE OUT." 



1 



RAW up the papers, lawyer, and make 
'em good and stout. 
For things at home are cross-ways, and 

Betsy and I are out, — 
We who have worked together so long as 

man and wife. 
Must pull in single harness the rest of our 

nat'ral life. 

"What is the matter?" says you. I swan! 

it's hard to tell! 
Most of the years behind us we've passed 

by very well; 
I have no other woman — she has no other 

man; 
Only we've lived together as long as ever 

we can. 

So I have talked with Betsy, and Betsy has 
talked with me; 

And we've agreed together, that we can 
never agree; 

Not that we've catched each other in any 
terrible crime, 

We've been a gatherin' this for years, a lit- 
tle at a time. 

There was a stock of temper we both had 

for a start ; 
Although we ne'er suspected, 'twould take 

us two apart ; 
I had my various failings, bred in the flesh 

and bone, 
And Betsy, like all good women, had a 

temper of her own. 

The first thing, I remember, whereon we 
disagreed, 



Was somethin' concerning heaven — a dif- 
ference in our creed; 

We arg'ed the thing at breakfast — we 
arg'ed the thing at tea — 

And the more we arg'ed the question, the 
more we couldn't agree. 

And the next that I remember was when 

we lost a cow; 
She had kicked the bucket, for certain — 

the question was only — How? 
1 held my opinion, and Betsy another had; 
And when we were done a talkin'^ we both 

of us was mad. 

And the next that I remember, it started 

in a joke; 
But for full a week it lasted and neither 

of us spoke. 
And the next was when I fretted because 

she broke a bowl; 
And she said I was mean and stingy, and 

hadn't any soul. 

And so the thing kept workin', and all the 

self-same way; 
Always somethin' to arg'e and something 

sharp to say, — 
And down on us came the neighbors, a 

couple o' dozen strong, 
And lent their kindliest sarvice to help the 

thing along. 

And there have been days together — and 

many a weary week — ■ 
When both of us were cross and spunky, 

and both too proud to speak; 



IN A SENTIMENTAL STRAIN. 



251 



And I have been thinkin' and thinkin'. the 
whole of the summer and fall, 

If I can't live kind with a woman, why, 
then I won't at all. 

And so I have talked with Betsy, and Betsy 

has talked with me; 
And we have agreed together that we can 

never agree; 
And what is hers shall be hers, and what is 

mine shall be mine; 
And I'll put it in the agreement and take it 

to her to sign. 

Write on that paper, lawyer — the very first 

paragraph — 
Of all the farm and live stock, she shall have 

her half; 
For she has helped to earn it, through many 

a weary day, 
An' it's nothin' more than justice that 

Betsy has her pay. 

Give her the house and homestead; a man 

can thrive and roam. 
But women are wretched critters, unless 

they have a home. 
And I have always determined, and never 

failed to say. 
That Betsy never should want a home, if 

I was taken away. 

There's a little hard money besides, that's 

drawin' tol'rable pay, 
A couple of hundred dollars laid by for a 

rainy day, — 
Safe in the hands of good men, and easy 

to get at; 
Put in another clause there, and give her 

all of that. 
I see that you are smiling, sir, at my givin' 

her so much; 
Yes, divorce is cheap, sir, but I take no 

stock in such; 



True and fair I married her, when she was 

blithe and young. 
And Betsy was always good to me, except- 

in' with her tongue. 

When I was young as you, sir, and not so 

smart, perhaps. 
For me she mittened a lawyer, and several 

other chaps; 
And all of 'em was flustered, and fairly 

taken down. 
And for a time I was counted the luckiest 

man in town. 

Once, when I had a fever — I won't forget it 

soon — 
I was hot as a basted turkey and crazy as 

a loon — 
Never an hour went by me, when she was 

out of sight; 
She nursed me true and tender, and stuck 

to me day and night. 

And if ever a house was tidy, and ever a 

kitchen clean, 
Her house and kitchen were tidy as any I 

ever seen; 
And I don't complain of Betsy or any of 

her acts, 
Exceptin' when we've quarreled, and told 

each other facts. 

So draw up the paper, lawyer; and I'll go 

home to-night, 
And read the agreement to her and see if 

it's all right; 
And then in the mornin' I'll sell to a tradin' 

man I know — 
And kiss the child that was left to us, and 

out in the world I'll go. 

And one thing put in the paper, that first 

to me didn't occur; 
That when I'm dead at last she will bring 

me back to her. 



IN A SENTIMENTAL STRAIN. 



253 



And lay me under the maple we planted 

years ago, 
When she and I were happy, before we 

quarreled so. 

And when she dies, I wish that she would 
be laid by me; 



And lyin' together in silence, perhaps we'll 

then agree; 
And if ever we meet in heaven, I wouldn't 

think it queer 
If we loved each other the better because 

we've quarreled here. 



BETSY DESTROYS THE PAPER. 



(They did not part.) 

f'VE brought back the paper, lawyer, 
and fetched the parson here^ 
To see that things are regular, and settled 

up fair and clear ; 
For I've been talking with Caleb, and Caleb 

has with me. 
And the 'mount of it is we're minded to try 
once more to agree. 

So I came here on the business, — only a 

word to say 
(Caleb is staking pea-vines, and couldn't 

come to-day) 
Just to tell you and parson how that we've 

changed our mind ; 
So I'll tear up the paper, lawyer, you see 

it wasn't signed. 

And now if parson is ready, I'll walk with 

him toward home ; 
I want to thank him for something, 'twas 

kind of him to come ; 
He's showed a Christian spirit, stood by 

us firm aiid true ; 
We mightn't have changed our mind, squire, 

if he'd been a lawyer too. 

There! — how good the sun feels, and the 

grass, and blowin' trees ! 
Something about them lawyers makes me 

feel fit to freeze; 
I wasn't bound to state particular to that 

man, 



' But it's right you should know, parson, 

about our change of plan. 
We've been some days a-waverin' a little, 

Caleb and me. 
And wished the hateful paper at the bottom 

of the sea ; 
But I guess 'twas the prayer last evening, 

and the few words you said, 
That thawed the ice between us, and 

brought things to a head. 

You see, when we came to division, there 

was things that wouldn't divide ; 
There was our twelve-year-old baby, she 

couldn't be satisfied 
To go with one or the other, but just kept 

whimperin' low, 
"I'll stay with papa and mamma, and where - 

they go I'll go." 

Then there was grandsire's Bible — he died 

on our wedding day ; 
We couldn't halve the old Bible, and should 

it go or stay? 
The sheets that was Caleb's mother's, her 

sampler on the wall, 
With the sweet old names worked in — ■ 

Tryphena, and Eunice, and Paul. 
Still we went on a-talkin' ; I agreed to knit 

some socks, 
And made a dozen striped shirts, and a pair 

of war'mus frocks ; 
And he was toi cut a doorway from the 

kitchen to the shed ; 
"Save you climbing steps much in frosty 

weather," he said. 



254 



IN A SENTIMENTAL STRAIN. 



He brought me the pen at last; I felt a 

sinkin' and he 
Looked as he did with the agur, in the 

spring of sixty-three. 
'Twas then you dropped in, parson, 'twasn't 

much that was said, 
"Little children, love one another," but the 

thing was killed stone dead. 

I should like to make confession; not that 

I'm going to say 
The fault was all on my side, that never 

was my way, 
But it may be true that women — tho' how 

'tis I can't see — 
Are a trifle more aggravatin' than men 

know how to be. 

Then, parson, the neighbors' meddlin' — it 

wasn't pourin' oil ; 
And the church a-laborin' with us, 'twas 

worse than wasted toil; 
And I've thought and so has Caleb, though 

maybe we are wrong, 
If they'd kept to their own business, we 

should have got along. 

There was Deacon Amos Purdy, a good 

man as we know. 
But hadn't a gift bf laborin' except with 

the scythe and hoe ; 
Then a load came over in peach time from 

the Wilbur neighborhood, 
"Season of prayer," they called it; didn't 

do an atom of good. 



Then there are pints of doctrine, and views 

of a future state 
I'm willing to stop discussin'; we can both 

afford to wait ; 
'Twon't bring the millennium sooner, dis- 

putin' about when it's due. 
Although I feel an assurance that mine's 

the scriptural view. 

But the blessedest truths of the Bible, I've 

learned to think, don't lie 
In the texts we hunt with a candle to prove 

our doctrines by. 
But them that come to us in sorrow, and 

when we're on our knees ; 
So if Caleb won't argue on free-will, I'll 

leave alone the decrees. 

But there's the request he made ; you know 

it, parson, about 
Bein' laid under the maples that his own 

hand set out. 
And me to be laid beside him when my 

turn comes to go ; 
As if — as — don't mind me ; but 'twas that 

that unstrung me so. 

And now, that some scales, as we think, 

have fallen from our eyes, 
And things brought so to a crisis have made 

us both more wise. 
Why, Caleb says and so I say, till the Lord 

parts him and me. 
We'll love each other better, and try our 

best to agree. 

—Will M. Carleton. 



KATIE LEE AND WILLIE GRAY. 



I WO brown heads with tossing curls, 
Red lips shutting over pearls. 
Bare feet, white and wet with dew. 
Two eyes black and two eyes blue — 
Little boy and girl were they 
Katie Lee and Willie Gray. 



They were standing where a brook^ 
Bending like a shepherd's crook, 
Flashed its silver, and thick ranks 
Of willow fringed its mossy banks- 
Half in thought and half in play, 
Katie Lee and Willie Gray. 



IN A SENTIMENTAL STRAIN. 



255 



They had cheeks Hke cherry red, 

He was taller, 'most a head; 

She with arms like wreaths of snow 

Swung a basket to and fro, 

As they loitered, half in play, 

Katie Lee and Willie Gray. 

"Pretty Katie," Willie said, 
And there came a dash of red 
Through the brownness of the cheek, 
"Boys are strong and girls are weak, 
And I'll carry, so I will, 
Katie's basket up the hill.'^ 

Katie answered with a laugh,' 
"You shall only carry half;" 
Then said, tossing back her curls, 
"Boys are weak as well as girls." 
Do you think that Katie guessed 
Half the wisdom she expressed? 
Men are only boys grown tall ; 
Hearts don't change much, after all; 
And when, long years from that day, 
Katie Lee and Willie Gray 
Stood again beside the brook 
Bending hke a shepherd's crook — 



It is strange that Willie said. 

While again a dash of red 

Crowned the brownness of his cheek, 

I am strong and you are weak; 

Life is but a slippery steep, 

Hung with shadows cold and deep. 

"Will you trust me, Katie dear? 
Walk beside me without fear? 
May I carry, if I will. 
All your burdens up the hill?" 
And she answered, with a laugh, 
"No, but you may carry half." 

Close beside the little brook 
Bending like a shepherd's crook, 
Working with its silver hands 
Late and early at the sands, 
Stands a cottage, where, to-day, 
Katie lives with Willie Gray. 

In the porch she sits, and lo! 
Swinging a basket to and fro, 
Vastly different from the one 
That she swung in years agone; 
This is long, and deep, and wide. 
And has rockers at the side. 



THEY WERE MARRIED SHORTLY AFTER THAT. 



£i 



KNOW what you're going to say," 
she said. 

And she stood up, looking uncommonly 

tall; 

"You are going to speak of the hectic 

fall. 

And say you are sorry the summer's dead, 

And no other summer was like it, you 

know. 
And can I imagine what made it so? 
Now, ain't you, honestly?" "Yes," I said. 



"I know what you're going to say," she 
said; 
"You're going to ask if I forget 



That day in June when the woods were 
wet. 
And you carried me" — here she dropped her 
head — 
"Over the creek; you are going to say, 
Do I remember that horrid day ? 
Now, ain't you, honestly?" "Yes," I said. 

"I know what you are going to say," she 
said; 
"You are going to say that since thai 

time 
You have rather tended to run to 
rhyme ; 
And," — her clear glance fell, and her cheek 
grew red, — 



256 



IN A SENTIMENTAL STRAIN. 



"And have I noticed your tone was 

queer ; 
Why, everybody has seen it here ! 
Now, aren't you, honestly?" "Yes," I said. 

'T know what you're going to say," I said, 
"You are going to say we've been much 
annoyed, 



And I'm short of tact — you will say, de- 
void — 
And I'm clumsy and awkward, and call me 
Ted, 
And I'll bear abuse like a dear old lamb. 
And you'll have me, anyway, just as I 
am? 
Now, aren't you, honestly?" "Ye — es," she 
said. 



LINGERING LOVERS FINALLY PARTED. 



/p OOD-NIGHT, sweetheart ! It can't 

\^ be ten, I know ; 

That clock would better "go a little slow !" 

I do not see how it can have the face 

To take "new deals" at such a rapid pace. 

Full well I know ten minutes have not 

flown 
Since it struck nine ! Good-night, my love. 



my own 



"Good-night, Charlie !" 

Oh, yes; last night, while going down 

Broadway, 
Whom do you think I met ? Dick Gray ! 
Just home from Europe ! You should hear 

him talk ! 
'Twould make a mummy laugh to see him 

walk! 
He struts around with such a killing air. 
Ha! ha! Good-night, my love, my jewel 

rare. 

"Good-night, Charlie !" 

Oh, Katie ! wait, dear ; I forgot to tell 
You something. Let me think! That's 

funny ! Well, 
It's gone, and in a moment so am I. 
My darling, how I hate to say good-bye ! 
Some fellows would much later stay, I 

know ; 
But "Ten" your mother says ; so I must go. 
"Go0d-night, Charlie!" 



Sometime, bewitching Kate, — ah ! some- 
time, sweet, — 

"Good-bye" shall we consider obsolete; 

No more will clocks strike terror to my 
heart. 

And in exultant tones bid me depart. 

Ah! now, like Cinderella at the ball, 

I fly from happiness ! Good-night, my all ! 
"Good-night, Charlie !" 



Oh, Katie, dear, it's too much trouble, think. 
To get a match? I could not sleep a wink 
Without my smoke. It is a lovely night, 
So clear and sweet, and it is just as bright 
As day. Well, I must itJ.T myself away. 
Thanks, dear! Good-night, once more I'll 



say 



"Good-night, Charlie !" 



Oh, dear ! How stupid of me ! There's my 

cane — 
I must come back and get it! Should it 

rain 
To-morrow eve, will come and let you 

know 
About the party ; if not, we'll go. 
Hark ! Catch me ere I fall ! Oh ! what a 

shock ! 
It strikes again ! Good-night ! Confound 

that clock ! 

"Good-night, Charlie!" 



IN A SENTIMENTAL STRAIN. 



257 



THE BOY ON THE BACK-YARD FENCE. 



HE boy stood on the back-yard fence, 
If whence all but he had fled ; 

The flames that lit his father's barn shone 

just above the shed. 
One bunch of crackers in his hand, two 

others in his hat, 
With piteous accents loud he cried, "I never 

thought of that !" 
A bunch of crackers to the tail of one small 

dog he'd tied ; 
The dog in anguish sought the barn, and 

'mid its ruins died. 



The sparks flew wide, and red and hot, they 

lit upon that brat; 
They fired the crackers in his hand, and 

e'en those in his hat. 

Then came a burst of rattling sound — the 

boy ! Where was he gone ? 
Ask of the winds that far around strewed 

bits of meat and bone: 
And scraps of clothes, and balls, and tops, 

and nails, and hooks, and yarn- 
The relics of that dreadful boy that burnt 

his father's barn. 



DEAR, COQUETTISH, KATHIE MORRIS. 



H! fine it was that April time, when 
gentle winds were blowing, 
To hunt for pale arbutus blooms that 
hide beneath the leaves. 
To hear the merry rain come down, and 
see the clover growing, 
And watch the airy swallows as they 
darted round the eaves. 

You wonder why I dream to-night of clo- 
ver that was growing 
So many years ago, my wife, when we 
were in our prime; 
For hark! the wind is in the flue, and John- 
ny says 'tis snowing. 
And through the storm the clanging 
bells ring in the Christmas time. 

I cannot tell, but something sweet about 
my heart is clinging — 
A vision and a memory; 'tis little that I 
mind 
The weary wintry weather, for I hear the 
robins singing. 
And the petals of the apple-blooms are 
ruffled in the wind. 



It was a sunny morn in May, and in the 
fragrant meadow 
I lay and dreamed of one fair face, as 
fair and fresh as spring; 
Would Kathie Morris love me? Then in 
sunshine and in shadow 
I built up lofty castles on a golden wed- 
ding ring. 

Oh, sweet it was to dream of her, the sol- 
dier's only daughter. 
The pretty, pious Puritan that flirted so 
with Will; 
The music of her winsome mouth was like 
the laughing water 
That broke in silvery syllables by Farmer 
Phillip's mill. 

And Will had gone away to sea; he did 
not leave her grieving; 
Her bonny heart was not for him, so 
reckless and so vain; 
And Will turned ou^ a buccaneer, and 
hanged was he for thieving 
And scuttling helpless ships that sailed 
across the Spanish main. 



258 



IN A SENTIMENTAL STRAIN. 



And I had come to grief for her, the scorn- 
ful village beauty, 
For oh, she had a witty tongue, could 
cut you like a knife ; 
She scanned me with her handsome eyes, 
and I, in bounden duty, 
Did love her — loved her more for that — 
and wearied of my life. 

And yet 'twas sweet to dream of her, to 
think her wavy tresses 
Might rest, some happy, happy day, like 
sunshine on my cheek. 
The idle winds that fanned my brow I 
dreamed were her caresses, 
And in the robin's twitterings I heard my 
sweetheart speak. 

And as I lay and dreamed of her, her fair, 
sweet face adorning 
With lover's fancies, treasuring the 
slightest words she said, 
'Twas Kathie broke upon me like a blush- 
ing summer morning, 
And a half-open rosy clover reddened 
underneath her tread. 

Then I looked up at Kathie, and her eyes 
were full of laughter; 
Oh, Kathie, Kathie Morris, I am lying 
at your feet; 
Bend above me, say you love me, that 
you'll love me ever after, 
Or let me lie and die here, in the fragrant 
meadow sweet!" 

And then I turned my face away, and trem- 
bled at my daring. 
For wildly, wildly had I spoke, with 
flashing cheek and eye; 
And there was silence; I looked up, all 
pallid and despairing. 
For fear she'd take me at my word, and 
leave me there to die. 



The silken fringes of her eyes upon her 
cheeks were drooping. 
Her merciless white fingers tore a blush- 
ing bud apart; 
Then, quick as hghtning, Kathie came, and 
kneeling half and stooping. 
She hid her bonny, bonny face against 
my beating heart! 

Oh, nestle, nestle, nestle there! the heart 
would give thee greeting; 
Lie thou there, all trustfully, in trouble 
and in pain; 
This breast shall shield thee from the storm 
and bear its bitter beating. 
These arms shall hold thee tenderly in 
sunshine and in rain. 

Old sexton, set your chimes in tune, and 
let there be no snarling; 
Ring out a happy wedding hymn to all 
the listening air; 
And, girls, strew roses as she comes — the 
scornful, brown-eyed darling — 
A princess by the wavy gold and glisten- 
ing of her hair! 

Hark! hear the bells! The Christmas 
bells? Oh, no; who set them 
ringing? 
I think I hear our bridal bells, and I with 
joy am blind — 
Johnny, don't make such a noise! I hear 
the robins singing. 
And the petals of the apple-blooms are 
ruffled in the wind. 

Ah, Kathie! you've been true to me in fair 
and cloudy weather. 
Our Father has been good to us when 
we've been sorely tried; 
I pray to God, when we must die. that we 
may die together. 
And slumber softly underneath the clo- 
ver, side by side. 



26o 



IN A SENTIMENTAL STRAIN. 



THE MIGHT OF LOVE. 



£i 



HERE is work, good man, for you 

to-day!" 

So the wife of Jamie cried, 
"For a ship at Garl'ston, on Solway, 
Is beached, and her coal's to be got away 

At the ebbing time of tide." 

"And, lassie, would you have me start, 

And make for Solway sands? 
You know that I, for my poor part, 
To help me, have no horse nor cart — 

I have only just my hands!" 

"But, Jamie, be not, till ye try, 

Of honest chances baulked; 
For, mind ye, man, I'll prophesy 
That while the old ship's high and dry 

Her master'U have her caulked." 

And far and near the men were pressed, 
As the wife saw in her dreams. 

"Aye," Jamie said, "she knew the best," 

As he went under with the rest 
To caulk the open seams. 

And while the outward-flowing tide 

Moaned like a dirge of woe. 
The ship's mate from the beach-belt cried: 
"Her hull is heeling toward the side 

Where the men are at work below!" 

And the cartmen, wild and open-eyed, 

Made for the Solway sands — 
Men heaving men like coals aside, 
For now it was the master cried: 

"Run for your lives, all hands!" 

Like dead leaves in the sudden swell 

Of the storm, upon that shout, 
Brown hands went fluttering up and fell, 
As, grazed by the sinking planks, pell-mell 

The men came hurtling out! 



Thank God, thank God, the peril's past! 

"No! no!" with blanching lip. 
The master cries. "One man, the last, 
Is caught, drawn in, and grappled fast 

Betwixt the sands and the ship!" 

"Back, back, all hands! Get what you can — 

Or pick, OF oar, or stave." 
This way and that they breathless ran. 
And came and fell to, every man. 

To dig him out of his grave! 

"Too slow! too slow! the weight will kill! 

Up, make your hawsers fast!" 
Then every man took hold with a will — 
A long pull and a strong pull — still 

With never a stir o' the mast! 

"Out with the cargo!" Then they go 

At it with might and main. 
"Back to the sands! too slow, too slow! 
He's dying, dying! yet, heave ho! 

Heave ho! there, once again!" 

And now on the beach at Garl'ston stood 

A woman whose pale brow wore 
Its love like a queenly crown; and the blood 
Ran curdled and cold as she watched the 
flood 
That was racing in to the shore. 

On, on it trampled, stride by stride. 

It was death to stand and wait; 
And all that were free threw picks aside, 
And came up dripping out o' th' tide. 

And left the doomed to his fate. 

But lo! the great sea trembling stands; 

Then, crawling under the ship, 
As if for the sake of the two white hands 
Reaching over the wild, wet sands. 

Slackened that terrible grip. 



IN A SENTIMENTAL STRAIN. 



261 



"Come to me, Jamie! God grants the way," 

She cries, "for lovers to meet." 
And the sea, so cruel, grew kind, they say. 



And, wrapping him tenderly round with 
spray, 
Laid him dead at her feet. 



ROSE TO A HIGHER LIFE. 



IHE words of a blue-eyed child as she 
kissed her chubby hand and looked 
down the stairs: "Good-night, papa; Jes- 
sie see you in the morning." 

It came to be a settled thing, and eveiy 
evening, as the mother slipped the white 
night-gown over the plump shoulders, the 
little one stopped on the stairs and sang 
out, "Good-night, papa," and as the father 
heard the silvery accents of the child, he 
came, and taking the cherub in his arms, 
kissed her tenderly, while the mother's eyes 
filled, and a swift prayer went up, for, 
strange to say, this man who loved his child 
with all the warmth of his great, noble 
nature, had one fault to mar his manliness. 
From his youth he loved the wine-cup. 
Genial in spirit, and with a fascination of 
•manner that won him friends, he could not 
resist when surrounded by his boon com- 
panions. Thus his home was darkened, 
the heart of his wife bruised and bleeding, 
the future of his child shadowed. 

Three years had the winsome jirattle of 
the baby crept into the avenues of the 
father's heart, keeping him closer to his 
home, but still the fatal cup was in his 
hand. Alas for frail humanity, insensible 
to the call« of love! With unutterable 
tenderness God saw there was no other 
way; this father was dear to him, the pur- 
chase of His Son; He could not see him 
perish, and calling a swift messenger. He 
said, "Speed thee to earth and bring the 
babe." 

"Good-night, papa," sounded from the 
stairs. What was there in the voice? was 
it the echo of the mandate, "Bring me the 
babe"? — a silvery plaintive sound, a linger- 
ing music that touched the father's heart, 



as when a cloud crosses the sun. "Good- 
night, my darling"; but his lips quivered 
and his broad brow grew pale. "Is Jessie 
sick, mother? Her cheeks are flushed, and 
her eyes have a strange light." 

"Not sick/' and the mother stooped to 
kiss the flushed brow; "she may have 
played too much. Pet is not sick." 

"Jessie tir^d, mamma; good-night, papa; 
Jessie see you in the morning." 

"That is all, she is only tired," said the 
mother as she took the small hand. An- 
other kiss and the father turned away; but 
his heart was not satisfied. 

Sweet lullabies were sung; but Jessie 
was restless and could not sleep. "Tell 
me a story, mamma"; and the mother told 
of the blessed babe that Mary cradled, fol- 
lowing along the story till the child had 
grown to walk and play. The blue, wide- 
open eyes filled with a strange light, as 
though she saw and comprehended more 
than the mother knew. 

That night the father did not visit the 
saloon; tossing on his bed, starting from 
a feverish sleep and bending over the crib, 
the long, weary hours passed. Morning 
revealed the truth — Jessie was smitten with 
a fever. 

"Keep her quiet," the doctor said; "a 
few days of good nursing, and she will be 
all right." 

Words easy said; but the father saw a 
look on the sweet face such as he had seen 
before. He knew the message was at the 
door. 

Night came. "Jessie is sick; can't say 
good-night, papa"; and the little clasping 
fingers clung to the father's hand. 

"O God, spare her! I cannot, cannot 



262 



IN A SENTjIMENTAL STRAIN. 



bear it!" was wrung from his suffering 
heart. 

Days passed; the mother was tireless in 
her watching. With her babe cradled in 
her arms her heart was slow to take in the 
truth, doing her best to solace the father's 
heart: "A light case! the doctor says, 
'Pet will soon be well.' " 

Calmly as one who knows his doom, the 
father laid his hand upon the hot brow, 
looked into the eyes even then covered 
.with the film of death, and with all the 
strength of his manhood cried, "Spare her, 
O God! spare my child, and I will follow 
thee." 

With a last painful effort the parched 
lips opened: "Jessie's too sick; can't say 



good-night, papa — in the morning." There 
was a convulsive shudder, and the clasping 
fingers relaxed their hold; the messenger 
had taken the child. 

Months have passed. Jessie's crib 
stands by the side of her father's couch; 
her blue embroidered dress and white hat 
hang in his closet; her boots with the print 
of the feet just as she last wore them, as 
sacred in his eyes as they are in the 
mother's. Not dead, but merely risen to a 
higher life; while, sounding down from 
the upper stairs, "Good-night, papa, Jessie 
see you in the morning," has been the 
means of winning to a better way one who 
had shown himself deaf to every former 
call. 



WHENEVER YOU WELCOME THE HOUR. 



fAREWELL! — but whenever you wel- 
|g)S come the hour 

That awakens the night-song of mirth in 
your bower. 

Then think of the friend who once wel- 
comed it too. 

And forgot his own griefs to be happy with 
you. 

His griefs may return, not a hope may re- 
main 

Of the few that have brightened his path- 
way of pain; 

But he ne'er will forget the short vision that 
threw 

Its enchantment around him, while linger- 
ing with you. 

And still on that evening, when pleasure 

fills up 
To the highest top sparkle each heart and 

each cup. 
Where'er my path lies, be it gloomy or 

bright. 
My soul, happy friends, shall be with you 

that night; 



Shall join in your revels, your sports, and 

your wiles, 
And return to me beaming all o'er with 

your smiles — 
Too blest, if he tells me that, 'mid the gay 

cheer. 
Some kind voice had murmured, 'T wish 

he were here!" 

Let Fate do her worst; there are relics of 

joy, 
Bright dreams of the past which she cannot 

destroy; 
Which come in the night-time of sorrow 

and care, 
And bring back the features that joy used 

to wear. 
Long, long be my heart with such memo- 
ries filled! 
Like the vase, in which roses have once 

been distilled — 
You may break, you may shatter the vase 

if you will, 
But the scent of the roses will hang round 

it still. 

—Thomas Moore. 




A LIBEARY IN A CITY HOME. 



264 



IN A SENTIMENTAL STRAIN. 



WHERE TRUE HAPPINESS REIGNS. 



(ell me, ye winged winds that round 
my pathway soar, 
Do ye not know some spot where mortals 

weep no more? 
Some lone and pleasant dell, some valley 

in the west 
Where, free from toil and pain, the weary 

soul may rest? 
The loud wind dwindled to a whisper low 
And sighed for pity as it answered — "No." 

Tell me, thou mighty deep, whose billows 

round me play, 
Knowest thou some favorite spot, some 

island far away, 
Where weary one may find the bliss for 

which she sighs — 
Where sorrow never lives, and friendship 

never dies? 
The loud waves rolling in perpetual 

flow 
Stopped for awhile and sighed to answer — 

"No." 



And thou, serenest moon, that with such 

lovely face 
Dost look upon the earth asleep in night's 

embrace, 
Tell me in all thy round hast thou not seen 

some spot 
Where miserable man may find a happier 

lot? 
Behind a cloud the moon withdrew in woe, 
And a voice sweet but sad responded — 

"No." 

Tell me, my secret soul. Oh! tell me, Hope 
and Faith, 

Is there no resting place from sorrow, sin 
and death? 

Is there no' happy spot where mortals may 
be blessed^ 

Where grief may find a balm, and weari- 
ness a rest? . 

Faith, Hope, and Love, best subjects to 
mortals given, 

Waved their bright wings and whispered — 
"Yes, in Heaven." 




^HAT! Robbed the mail at mid- 
f night! We'll trail them down, you 
bet! 
We'll bring them to the halter; I'm sheriff 

of Yuba yet. 
Get out those mustangs, hearties, and long 

before set of sun 
We'll trail them down to their refuge, and 
justice shall yet be done. 



HE HAD TO DO HIS DUTY. 

Ah! we have found our quarry! yonder 

within the bush! 
Empty your carbines at them, then follow 

me with a rush! 
Down with the desperadoes! Ours is the 

cause of right! 
Though they should slash like demons, 

still we must gain the fight! 



It's pleasant, this rude experience ; life has 

a rugged zest 
Here on the plains and mountains, far to 

the open west: 
Look at those snow-capped summits — 

waves of an endless sea; 
Look at yon billowed prairie, boundless as 

grand and free. 



Pretty hot work, McGregor, but we have 

gained the day. 
What? Have we lost their leader? Can he 

have sneaked away? 
There he goes in the chaparral! He'll 

reach it now in a bound! 
Give me that rifle, Parker! I'll bring him 

down to the ground. 



IN A SENTIMENTAL STRAIN. 



265 



There, I knew I could drop him ; that httle 

piece of lead 
Sped straight on to its duty. The last of 

the gang is dead. 
He was a handsome fellow, plucky and 

fearless, too; 
Pity such men are devils, preying on those 

more true. 

What have you found in his pockets? Pa- 
pers? Let's take a look. 

"George Walgrave" stamped on the cover? 
Why, that is my brother's book; 

The deeds and the papers also, and letters 
received from me; 

He must have met these demons. Been 
murdered and robbed, you see. 

And I have been his avenger! It is years 
since last we met. 

We loved each other dearly, and Wal- 
graves never forget. 

If my voice is broken, excuse me. Some- 
how it confines my breath — 

Let me look on the face of that demon who 
dogged poor George to his death! 

Good God! It is he; my brother! killed 

by my own strong hand! 
He is no bandit leader! This is no robber 

band; 



What a mad, murderous blunder! Friends, 
who thought they were foes. 

Seven men dead on the prairie, and seven 
homes flooded with woes. 

And to think that I should have done it! 
When ere many suns should set, 

I hoped to embrace my brother— and this 
is the way we've met! 

He with his dead eyes gazing up to the dis- 
tant sky, 

And I his murderer, standing, living and 
unharmed, by! 

Well, his fate is the best one! Mine, to be- 
hold his corse 

Haunting my life forever; doomed to a 
vain remorse. 

How shall I bear its shadows? How could 
this strange thing be? 

O my brother and playmate! Would I 
had died for thee ! 

Pardon my weak emotion. Bury them 

here, my friends; 
Here, where the green-plumed willow over 

the prairie bends. 
One more tragedy finished in the romance 

of strife, 
Passing like somber shadows over this 

frontier life. — /. Edgar Jones. 



LITTLE MEG AND I. 



^^^ OU asked me, mates, to spin a yarn, 

^ I f before we go below ; 

Well, as the night is calm and f-air, and no 

chance for a blow^ 
I'll give you one, — a story true as ever yet 

was told — 
For, mates, I wouldn't He about the dead; 

no, not for gold. 
The story's of a maid and lad, who loved in 

days gone by; • 

The maiden was Meg Anderson, the lad, 

messmates, was I. 



A neater, trimmer craft than Meg was very 

hard to find; 
Why, she could climb a hill and make five 

knots again the wind; 
And as for larnin', hulks and spars! I've 

often heard it said 
That she could give the scholars points and 

then come out ahead. 
The old school-master used to say, and, 

mates, it made me cry, 
That the smartest there was little Meg; 

the greatest dunce was I. 



266 



IN A SENTIMENTAL STRAIN. 



But what cared I for larnin' then, while she 

was by my side; 
For, though a lad, I loved her, mates, and 

for her would have died; 
And she loved me, the little lass, and often 

have I smiled 
When she said, "I'll be your little wife," 

'twas the prattle of a child. 
For there lay a gulf between us, mates, 

with the waters running high; 
On one side stood Meg Anderson, on the 

other side stood I. 

Meg's fortune was twelve ships at sea and 
houses on the land; 

While mine— why, mates, you might have 
held my fortune in your hand. 

Her father owned a vast domain for miles 
along the shore ; 

My father owned a fishing-smack, a hut, 
and nothing more ; 

I knew that Meg I ne'er could win, no mat- 
ter how I'd try, 

For on a couch of down lay she, on a bed 
of straw lay I. 

I never thought of leaving Meg, or Meg of 

leaving me, 
For we were young, and never dreamed 

that I should go to sea. 
Till one bright morning father said: 

"There's a whale-ship in the bay: 
I want you, Bill, to make a cruise— you go 

aboard to-day." 
Well, mates, in two weeks from that time 

I bade them all good-bye, 
While on the dock stood little Meg, and on 

the deck stood I. 

I saw her oft before we sailed, whene'er I 

came on shore, 
And she would say: "Bill, when you're 

gone, rU love you more and more; 
And I promise to be true to you through 

all the coming years." 



But while she spoke her bright blue eyes 
were filled with pearly tears. 

Then, as I whispered words of hope and 
kissed her eyelids dry. 

Her last words were: "God speed you, 
Bill!" so parted Meg and I. 

Well, mates, we cruised for four long years, 
' till at last, one summer's day. 

Our good ship, the Minerva, cast anchor in 
the bay. 

Oh, how my heart beat high with hope, as 
I saw her home once more, 

And on the pier stood hundreds, to wel- 
come us ashore; 

But my heart sank down within me as I 
gazed with anxious eye — 

No little Meg stood on the dock, as on the 
deck stood I. 

Why, mates, it nearly broke my heart when 
I went ashore that day. 

For they told me little Meg had wed, while 
I was far away. 

They told me, too, they forced her to't — 
and wrecked her fair young life — 

Just think, messmates, a child in years, to 
be an old man's wife. 

But her father said it must be so, and what 
could she reply? 

For she was only just sixteen — ^just twenty- 
one was I. 

Well, mates, a few short years from then — 

perhaps it might be four — 
One blustering night Jack Glinn and I 

were rowing to the shore. 
When right ahead we saw a sight that 

made us hold our breath — 
There floating in the pale moonlight was a 

woman cold in death. 
I raised her up: oh, God, messmates, that 

I had passed her by! 
For in the bay lay little Meg, and over her 

stood I. 



IN A SENTIMENTAL STRAIN. 



267 



EVENING AT THE FARM. 



|VER the hill the farm-boy goes, 

His shadow lengthens along the 
land, 
A giant staff in a giant hand; 
In the poplar-tree, about the spring. 
The katydid begins to sing; 

The early dews are falling; 
Into the stone heap darts the mink; 
The swallows skim the river's brink; 
And home to the woodland fly the crows, 
When over the hill the farm-boy goes, 
Cheerily calling, 
"Co', boss! co', boss! co'! co! co'!" 
Farther, farther, over the hill, 
Faintly calling, calling still, 
"Co', boss! co', boss! co'! co'!" 

Into the yard the farmer goes. 
With grateful heart, at the close of day ; 
Harness and chain are hung away ; 
In the wagon-shed stand yoke and plow ; 
The straw's in the stack, the hay in the 
mow, 
The cooling dews are falling: 
The friendly sheep his welcome bleat, 
The pigs come grunting to his feet. 
The whinnying mare her master knows, 
When into the yard the farmer goes. 
His cattle calling: 

"Co', boss! co', boss! co'! co'! co'!" 
While still the cow-boy, far away, 
Goes seeking those that have gone astray — 

"Co', boss! co', boss! eo'! co'!" 

MY BED 

Y bed is like a little boat; 
Nurse helps me in when I embark; 
She girds me in my sailor's coat. 
And starts me in the dark. . 

At night I go on board and say 

Good-night to all my friends on shore ; 

I shut my eyes and sail away, 
And see and hear no more. 



Now to her task the milkmaid goes, 

The cattle come crowding through the 

gate. 
Lowing, pushing, little and great ; 
About the trough, by the farm-yard pump, 
The frolicsome yearlings frisk and jump. 
While the pleasant dews are falling: 
The new milch heifer is quick and shy, 
But the old cow waits with tranquil eye, 
And the white stream into the bright pail 

flows, 
When to her task the milkmaid goes. 
Soothingly calhng, 
"So, boss! so, boss! so! so! so!" 
The cheerful milkmaid takes her stool. 
And sits and milks in the twilight cod4, 
Saying "So! so, boss! so! so!" 

To supper at last the farmer goes. 
The apples are pared, the paper read, 
The stories are told, then all to bed. 
Without, the crickets' ceaseless song 
Makes shrill the silence all night long; 

The heavy dews are falling. 
The housewife's hand has turned the lock; 
Drowsily ticks the kitchen clock; 
The household sinks to deep repose, 
But still in his sleep the farm-boy goes 
Singing, calling — 
"Co', boss! co', boss! co'! co'! co'!" 
And oft the milkmaid, in her dreams. 
Drums in the pail with the flashing streams, 
Murmuring, "So, boss! so!" 

— J. T. Trowbridge. 
IS A BOAT. 

And sometimes things to bed I take. 
As prudent sailors have to do — 

Perhaps a slice of wedding-cake. 
Perhaps a toy or two. 

All night across the dark we steer; 

But when the day returns at last. 
Safe in my room, beside the pier, 

I find my vessel fast. 

— R. L. Stevenson. 




HON. SIR JOSEPH ADOLPHE CHAPLEAU, K. C. M. G., late Lieutenant-Governor 
of Quebec, was, by many persons who heard him speak in both French and English, con- 
sidered to be the greatest orator Canada ever produced. His reputation as an orator stands 
high. His massive head, pleasant countenance and leonine locks, coupled with the impas- 
sioned speech of the French Canadian, made him a conspicuous figure on a platform — in 
grace only rivalled by Sir Wilfred Laurier. He passed away in the early days of 1S9S. 



JEWELS OF PATRIOTISM, 



jf J? 8^ 



EV. DR. RYERSON, for many 

lf\ yc^rs Superintendent of Education in 
upper Canada, was a notable speaker. Per- 
haps one of the best of his patriotic ad- 
dresses was that dehvered in 1875, '^^'^ ^^^^ 
occasion of a pioneers' picnic held at 
Queenston Heights on the anniversary of 
Lundy's Lane! He congratulated the pion- 
eers on their spirit of loyalty and then pro- 
ceeded: 

What is this loyalty? It is no other than 
an attachment to the institutions and the 
laws of the land in which we live, and to the 
history of the nation to which we belong. It 
is not merely a sentime^it of respect of the 
country to an individual, or even to the 
Sovereign. If it gathered around the per- 
son of the Sovereign, it is because that Sov- 
ereign represented the institutions of the 
people, the overshadowing laws of the peo- 
ple, the real and essential freedom, and the 
noblest development of the spirit of the 
people. Loyalty in its true essence and 
meaning was the principle of respect to 
our Sovereign, the freedom of our institu- 
tions, and the excellencies of our civiliza- 
tion, and it is therefore a feeling worthy to 
be perpetuated by the people. Shake- 
speare — that great apostle of human na- 
ture — has said: 

"Though loyalty, well held, to fools does 

make 
Our faith mere folly ; yet he that can endure 
To follow with allegiance a fallen lord. 
Does conquer him that did his master con- 
quer." 

Loyalty is, therefore, faithful to its own 



269 



principles, whether the personal object of 
it is in prosperity or adversity. 

"Loyalty is still the same. 
Whether it win or lose the game; 
True as the dial of the sun, 
Though it be not shone upon." 

Hence, says Lord Clarendon of a states- 
man of his time: "He had no veneration 
for the court, but only such loyalty to the 
King as the law required." True loyalty 
is, therefore, fideHty to the constitution, 
laws and institutions of the land, and, of 
course, to the sovereign power represent- 
ing them. 

Thus it was with our loyalist forefathers. 
There was no class of inhabitants of the 
old British-American colonies more decid- 
ed and earnest than they in claiming the 
rights of British subjects when invaded; 
yet when, instead of maintaining the rights 
of British subjects, it was proposed to re- 
nounce the allegiance of British subjects 
and destroy the unity of the Empire, or 
"the life of the Nation" (as our American 
neighbors expressed it in their recent Civil 
War to maintain the unity of their re- 
public), then were our forefathers true to 
their loyalty, and adhered to the unity of 
the Empire, at the sacrifice of property and 
home, and often of life itself. Of them 
might be said what Milton says of Abdiel, 
amid the revolting hosts: 

"Abdiel, faithful found; 
Unshaken, unseduced, unterrified, 
His loyalty he kept." 

Our United Empire loyalist forefathers 



270 



JEWELS OF PATRIOTISM. 



"kept their loyalty unshaken, miseduced, 
unterrified" during seven long years of 
conflicts and sufferings; and that loyalty, 
with a courage and enterprise, and under 
privations and toils unsurpassed in human 
history, sought a refuge and a home in the 
wilderness of Canada, felled the forests of 
our country, and laid the foundations of 
its institutions, freedom and prosperity. 

Canadian loyalty is the perpetuation of 
that. British national life which has con- 
stituted the strength and glory of Great 
Britain since the morning of the Protestant 
reformation, and placed her at the head of 
the freedom and civilization of mankind. 
This loyalty maintains the characteristic 
traditions of the nation — the mysterious 
links of connection between grandfather 
and grandson — traditions of strength and 



glory for a people, and the violations of 
which are a source of weakness and dis- 
organization. Canadian loyalty, therefore, 
is not a mere sentiment, or mere affection 
for the representative or person of the 
Sovereign; it is a reverence for, and at- 
tachment to, the laws, order, institutions 
and freedom of the country. As Chris- 
tianity is not a mere attachment to a bishop, 
or ecclesiastic, or form of church polity, 
but a deep love of divine truth; so Can- 
adian loyalty is a firm attachment to that 
British constitution for those British la\^ s, 
adopted or enacted by ourselves, which 
best secure life, liberty and prosperity, and 
which prompt us to Christian and patriotic 
deeds by linking us with all that is grand 
and noble in the traditions of our national 
history. 



CANADA. 



©CHILD of Nations, giant-limbed, 
Who stand'st among the nations now 
Unheeded, unadorned, unhymned. 
With, unanointed brow, — 

How long the ignoble sloth, how long 
The trust in greatness not thine own? 

Surely the lion's brood is strong 
To front the world alone! 

How long the indolence ere thou dare 
Achieve thy destiny, seize thy fame, — 

Ere our proud eyes behold thee bear 
A nation's franchise, nation's name? 

The Saxon force, the Celtic fire. 
These are thy manhood's heritage! 

Why rest with babes and slaves? Seek 
higher 
The place of race and age. 

I see to every wind unfurled 

The flag that bears the Maple-Wreath; 
Thy swift keels furrow round the world 

Its blood-red folds beneath. 



Thy swift keels cleave the furthest seas; 

Thy white sails swell with alien gales; 
To stream on each remotest breeze 

The black smoke of thy pipes exhales. 

O Falterer, let thy past convince 
Thy future, — all the growth, the gain. 

The fame since Cartier knew thee, since 
Thy shores beheld Champlain! 

Montcalm and Wolfe! Wolfe and Mont- 
calm! 

Quebec, thy storied citadel, 
Attests in burning song and psalm 

How here thy heroes fell! 

O Thou that bor'st the battle's brunt 
At Queenston, and at Lundy's Lane, — 

On whose scant ranks but iron front 
The battle broke in vain! 

Whose was the danger, whose the day. 
From whose triumphant throats the 
cheers. 

At Chrysler's Farm, at Chateaugay, 

Storming like clarion-bursts our ears? 




SIR GEORGE CARTIER was born as early as 1814, and was one of the greatest of 
the French Canadians of the nineteenth century. George Cartier fought for his countrymen 
in the engagements at St. Denis in 1837. He held a seat in the Assembly, and was one of 
the few French Canadians to oppose the retention of seignorial tenure. Later Mr. Cartier 
was connected in several administrations with Sir John Macdonald, and was in the first 
Confederation ministry. 



272 



JEWELS OF PATRIOTISM. 



On soft Pacific slopes, — beside 

Strange floods that northward rave and 
fall- 
Where chafes Acadia's chainless tide — 

Thy sons await thy call. 

They wait; but some in exile, some 
With strangers housed, in stranger lands ; 

And some Canadian lips are dumb 
Beneath Egyptian sands. 



O mystic Nile! Thy secret yields 
Before us; thy most ancient dreams 

Are mixed with far Canadian fields 
And murmur of Canadian streams. 

But thou, my Country, dream not thou! 

Wake, and behold how night is done,- 
How on thy breast, and o'er thy brow, 

Bursts the uprising sun! 

— Charles G. D. Roberts. 



THE FUTURE OF CANADA. 



OOKING into the future. I perceive 
my country spanning this broad 
continent, her bosom throbbing with life 
and great plenty. Upon the pages of her 
history I can read the records of her 
achievements. It is worthy of a land with so 
rich an inheritance. I see her artists kneel 
for inspiration before her majestic and love- 
ly landscapes, while able pens are moulding 
the traditions and legends with which the 
land is so richly strewn into an imperish- 
able literature, encompassing history, ro- 
mance and song. 

Later on I imagine that I see a people, 
intelligent, thrifty and well-ordered — who, 
with roll of drum and the joyous waving 



of flags, celebrates the centennial anniver- 
sary of the birth of Canada; and I hear 
statesmen alluding to this nineteenth year 
of the Confederation as the one which saw 
unworthy men strive to sever the ties of 
the sisterhood. Later on still, it seems as 
if I heard them relate with pride that in 
spite of these men's treason the loyalty and 
faith of the people remained unshaken ; that 
they went on adding and building, striving 
and achieving, until they crowned their 
work with a nationhood that in the eyes of 
civilized mankind stood second to none in 
prosperity, intelligence and general con- 
tentment. 

— Edmund Collins. 



EMPIRE FIRST. 



Popular 

SHALL we break the plight of youth. 
And pledge us to an alien love? 
No! We hold our faith and truth, 
Trusting to the God above. 

Stand, Canadians, firmly stand, 
Round the flag of Fatherland. 

Britain bore us in her flank, 
Britain nursed us at our birth, 

Britain reared us to our rank 
'Mid the nations of the earth. 
Stand, Canadians, etc. 



Song. 

In the hour of pain and dread. 
In the gathering of the storm, 

Britain raised above our head 

Her broad shield and sheltering arm. 
Stand, Canadians, etc. 

O triune kingdom of the brave, 

O sea-girt island of the free, 

O empire of the land and wave, 

Our hearts, our hands, are all for thee. 
Stand, Canadians, etc. 

— John Talon-Lesperance. 



JEWELS OF PATRIOTISM. 



273 



SONG FOR CANADA. 



SONS of the race whose sires 
Aroused the martial flame 
That filled with smiles 
The triune Isles, 
Through all their heights of fame! 
With hearts as brave as theirs, 
With hopes as strong and high, 
We'll ne'er disgrace 
The honored race 
Whose deeds can never die. 
Let but the rash intruder dare 
To touch our darling strand. 
The martial fires 
That thrilled our sires 
Would flame throughout the land. 



Our lakes are deep and wide, 

Our fields and forests broad; 
With cheerful air 
We'll speed the share, 

And break the fruitful sod; 

Till blest with rural peace. 

Proud of our rustic toil. 
On hill and plain 
True kings we'll reign. 

The victors of the soil. 

But let the rash intruder dare 
To touch our darling strand. 
The martial fires 
That thrilled our sires 
Would light him from the land 



Health smiles with rosy face 
Amid our sunny dales, 

And torrents strong 

Fling hymn and song 
Through all the mossy vales; 
Our sons are living men. 
Our daughters fond and fair; 

A thousand isles 

Where plenty smiles 
Make glad the brow of Care. 
But let the rash intruder dare 
To touch our darling strand, 

The martial fires 

That thrilled our sires 
Would flame throughout the land. 



And if in future years 
One wretch should turn and fly, 
Let weeping Fame 
Blot out his name 
From Freedom's hallowed sky; 
Or should our sons e'er prove 
A coward, traitor race, — 
Just heaven! frown 
In thunder down 
T' avenge the foul disgrace! 
But let the rash intruder dare 
To touch our darling strand. 
The martial fires 
That thrilled our sires 
Would light him from the land. 

— Charles Sangster. 

CANADIAN ARISTOCRACY. 



® 



LTRS is a democratic country in an 
age of democracy. We here enjoy, 
at least in theory, what is called the reign 
of the common people. But the reign of 
the common people, that is to say, the right 
of the masses of mankind to govern them- 
selves, requires on the part of those who 
govern an earnest discharge of those duties 
which are necessarily involved in the privi- 



leges which they enjoy. In politics, as in 
other things, power and privilege bring 
with them an inevitable load of responsi- 
bility and duty, and we cannot hope to suc- 
ceed in the noble task of self-government, 
unless each one of us, realizing this, shall 
do his duty in the situation which he occu- 
pies, and shall, within the sphere of his 
powers and influence, labor to promote the 



274 



JEWELS OE PATRIOTISM. 



accomplishment of sound reforms in their 
due season. Now, in this democratic coun- 
try we have but few, and I wish we had no 
examples of the class distinctions of the old 
world. I think they ought not to have 
been introduced. They are foreign to our 
soil; they are unsuited to our habits; they 
are relics of old times now past; they are 
not given under the advice of our own lead- 
ers of opinion ; and I wish it might become 
a part of our unwritten code that these 
exotic distinctions should not be by us re- 
ceived. Yet, sir, I am a believer in a cer- 
tain, and in a real sense, in the principle 
of aristocracv. I believe in the true aris- 



tocracy of energy, learning, ability and in- 
tegrity; an aristocracy whose marks and 
titles are found in the earnest efforts of a 
man to do his duty and to excel in its dis- 
charge; and whose distinctions are such as 
a free people themselves confer by the ex- 
pression of their confidence, by mandates 
to the great council of the country, by selec- 
tion of high offices of public trust, by com- 
mission to regulate the affairs, to guide the 
high destinies of the people among whom 
they live. That is the aristocracy and the 
only aristocracy which is suited to our day 
and country. 

— Edzvard Blake. 



THIS CANADA OF OURS. 



T^ ET other tongues in older lands 
g^ Loud vaunt their claims to glory, 
And chaunt in triumph of the past. 

Content to live in story. 
Tho' boasting no baronial halls. 

Nor ivy-crested towers, 
What past can match thy glorious youth, 
Eair Canada of ours? 
Fair Canada, 
Dear Canada, 
This Canada of ours! 



We love those far-off ocean Isles 
Where Britain's monarch reigns; 

We'll ne'er forget the good old blood 
That courses through our veins; 

Proud Scotia's fame, old Erin's name. 
And haughty Albion's powers, 



Reflect their matchless lustre on 
This Canada of ours. 
Eair Canada, 
Dear Canada, 
This Canada of ours! 

May our Dominion flourish then, 

A goodly land and free, 
Where Celt and Saxon, hand in hand, 

Hold sway from sea to sea; 
.Strong arms shall guard our cherished 
homes 
When darkest danger lowers. 
And with our life-blood we'll defend 
This Canada of ours. 
Fair Canada, 
Dear Canada, 
This Canada of ours! 

— James David Ednar. 



THE 

AISE high the royal standard! 
1^^^ Shame not thy royal birth; 
The prestige of thy might sustain, 

Thou noblest of the earth! 
Great Canada! thou fair, free land! 
A world looks forth to thee; 



OLDEN FLAG. 



No alien hand thy hand shall lead; 
Thou'lt bow no servile knee. 

Then rally round the olden flag! 

The loved red, white and blue; 
Let traitors scheme, or boasters brag. 

To Canada prove true. 




HON. SIR CHARLES TUPPER, Baronet, has played a large part in the political 
history of the last forty years. He was born in Amherst, N. S., in 1821, and graduated M. D. 
from Edinburgh University in 1843. Returning to his native country he began to practice 
medicine. In 1855 he was elected to the Nova Scotia Assembly. Dr. Tupper entered Sir 
John Macdonald's Cabinet one year after the Hon. Jos. Howe, having waived a prior 
claim. Pie filled many important posts. He has been a man of great power and splendid 
vitality. As an orator he was both forcible and eloquent. 



2'jfi 



JEWELS OF PATRIOTISM. 



Float on, Oh flag of Empire vast! 

Long may those colors wave 
O'er many a blood-bought heritage ; 

O'er many a hero's grave. 
The grandeur of thy fame doth light 

The fields our fathers won; 
The noblest gift which valiant sire 

Could e'er bequeath his son. 

Droop not, Oh peerless standard! 

Oh loyal hearts and true! 
Forget not ye the olden land 

Though cherishing the new. 
Forget not hearts and hopes are one, 

From Britain's sea-sfirt Isles 



To where, beyond the Rocky steep, 
The broad Pacific smiles. 

Wave on. Oh flag of Empire vast! 

O'er mountain, rock and stream; 
Where wholesome fealty rests secure. 

Beneath thy fervent gleam. 
For, should the tramp of hostile feet 

Arouse our peaceful shore, 
Britannia's conquering sword would flash 

Through Canada once more. 

Then rally round the olden flag! 

The loved red, white and blue ; 
Let traitors scheme, or boasters brag, 

To Canada prove true. — Mrs. Macleod. 



THE MAPLE TREE. 



MAPLE tree! O, Maple tree! 

O, thou'rt a pride and joy to me; 
Of all trees of the forest green 
There's none compares with thee, I ween; 
Long may you stand, so green and grand. 
Pride and joy of our happy land — 

O, Maple tree! 

And all the birds they love thee best, 
And sing the sweetest in thy breast; 
And there's no shade, nor spreading tree. 
The free-foot rovers love like thee; 
Long may you stand, so green and grand, 
Pride and joy of our happy land — 

O, Maple tree! 

And in the merry month of Spring, 
Ere yet the birds begin to sing, 
O, how the schoolboy shouts to see 
The drops of nectar drop from thee! 



Long may you stand, so green and grand, 
Pride and joy of our happy land — 

O, Maple tree! 

And maidens, on their bridal morn. 
With boughs the festal halls adorn — 
And children clap their hands to see — 
How old men love the Maple tree; 
Long may you stand, so green and grand. 
Pride and joy of our happy land — 

O, Maple tree! 

And all our sons, where'er they roam, 
Still twine thy name with thoughts of 

home; 
Tho' far away from thee, I ween. 
Yet memory keeps thy branches green ! 
Long may you stand, so green and grand, 
Pride and joy of our happy land — 

O, Maple tree! 
— Alex McLachlan. 



HOUGH other 
bright, 
And other lands as fair; 
Though charms of other climes invite 

My wandering footsteps there; 
Yet there is one, the peer of all 



MY OWN CANADIAN HOME 

skies may be as 



Beneath bright heaven's dome; 
Of thee I sing, O happy land, 
My own Canadian home! 

Thy lakes and rivers, as the "voice 
Of many waters," raise 



JEWELS OF PATRIOTISM. 



277 



To Him who planned their vast extent, 

A symphony of praise; 
Thy mountain peaks o'erlook the clouds- 

They pierce the azure skies; 
They bid thy sons be strong and true — 

To great achievements rise. 

A noble heritage is thine, 

So grand, and fair and free; 
A fertile land, where he who toils 

Shall well rewarded be; 
And he who joys in nature's charms 

Exulting here may roam, 
'Mid scenes of grandeur which adorn 

My own Canadian home. 

Shall not the race that treads thy plains 
Spurn all that would enslave? 

Or they who battle with thy tides, 
Shall not that race be brave? 

Shall not Niagara's mighty voice 



Inspire to actions high? 
'Twere easy such a land to love, 
Or for her glory die. 

And doubt not should a foeman's hand 

Be armed to strike at thee, 
Thy trumpet call throughout the land 

Need scarce repeated be! 
As bravely as on Oueenston's Heights, 

Or as in Lundy's Lane, 
Thy sons will battle for thy rights. 

And Freedom's cause maintain. 

Did kindly heaven afford to me 

The choice where I would dwell, 
Fair Canada ! that choice should be 

The land I love so well. 
I love thy hills and valleys wide, 

Thy waters' flash and foam; 
May God in love o'er thee preside, 

My own Canadian home ! 

—E. G. Nelson. 



THE FUTURE OF CANADA. 



SIR WILFRID LAURIER, speaking 
at the city of Quebec in January, 
1893, was most eloquent in indicating the 
extent of the loyalty of the various classes 
of Canadians. He said: 

As far as I am concerned, gentlemen, I 
want no little republic of San Marino, no 
principality of Monaco; and although 
Caesar said that he would rather be the 
first in a village than the second in Rome, I 
say that my ambition is to be a citizen of a 
great country. I look forward to the day 
when Canada v;ill have a population of 30,- 
000,000 inhabitants, of 40,000.000 perhaps, 
and when its voice will weigh in the des- 
tinies of the world. I ask you, gentlemen, 
of whom the majority are French like my- 
self, is there a single man amongst you 
who would seriously like to see Canada 
cut up, who would detach from our patri- 
mony a single portion of what was the 



country of our ancestors? Who would like, 
for instance, to detach from our patrimony 
Cape Breton, rendered illustrious in our an- 
nals by so many struggles, by so much 
heroism and courage? Who would like to 
detach from it Port Royal, Grand Pre, 
Beausejour, the land of Evangeline and all 
that reminds us of Acadia? Is there one 
who would like to detach from our patri- 
mony that immense plain, now covered 
with cities and farms, furrowed by 
great rivers, crowned with forests, and hal- 
lowed with the blood of Cannier, DeBre- 
boeuf and so many other missionaries 
whose names are known alone to God? 
Who would detach from our patrimony the 
land of the West, as it was called in the 
days when LaVerandrye and his sons ven- 
tured upon its trackless prairies? No; and, 
for my part, I say that this country is ours 
and ours it must remain. There is room 



^/< 



JEWELS OF PATRIOTISM. 



enough in this great country for all the 
races, all the creeds and ah the religions. 
Need I say to you, gentlemen, to you who 
remember history, that if we are separated 
from our fellow-countrymen by language 
and religion, we are united to them by a 
bond which is perhaps just as dear — by 
liberty? Is there a man amongst us who 
forgets that when Papineau was struggling 
for the rights of his race and for the con- 
stitutional liberty which we to-day enjoy 
his principal coadjuators were John Nelson, 
the Scotchman, and O'Callaghan, the Irish- 
man? Is there a man who can forget that, 
when the constitutional voice was useless, 
when our representations and remon- 
strances remained for years and years un- 
answered, and when the peasants of St. 



Denis took up arms and faced the veterans 
of Waterloo, their commander was not a 
Canadian, but an Englishman named Wil- 
fred Nelson? And, three days afterwards, 
these same peasants were swept with the 
leaden hail at St. Charles, can it be forgot- 
ten that the man who again led them was 
an Englishman named Thomas S. Brown? 
How can these men or their descendants — 
English, Scotch, Irish and French — who 
shed their blood to win for us the liberties 
we enjoy to-day, make use of the same lib- 
erties to tear each other to pieces? Ah! no. 
Far be from me the thought; let us be more 
broad-minded, and say that those who 
shared in the labor shall also share in the 
reward. 



JACQUES CARTIER. 



fN the seaport of St. Malo, 'twas a smil- 
ing morn in May, 
When the Commodore Jacques Cartier to 

the westward sailed away; 
In the crowded old Cathedral, all the town 

were on their knees, 
For the safe return of kinsmen from the 

undiscovered seas; 
And every Autumn blast that swept o'er 

pinnacle and pier,. 
Filled manly hearts with sorrow, and gentle 

hearts with fear. 

A year passed o'er St. Malo — again came 

round the day, 
When the Commodore Jacques Cartier to 

the westward sailed away; 
But no tidings from the absent had come 

the way they went. 
And tearful were the vigils that many a 

maiden spent; 
And manly hearts were filled with gloom, 

and gentle hearts with fear. 
When no tidings came from Cartier at the 

closing of the year. 



But the earth is as the Future, it hath its ' 
hidden side, 

And the Captain of St. Malo was rejoicing 
in his pride; 

In the forests of the North — while his 
townsmen mourned his loss — 

He was rearing on Mount Royal the fleur- 
de-lis and cross; 

And w^hen two months were over, and add- 
ed to the year, 

St. Malo hailed him home again, cheer an- 
swering to cheer. 

He told them of a region, hard, iron-bound, 

and cold. 
Nor seas of pearl abounded, nor mines of 

shining gold; 
Where the wind from Thule freezes the 

word upon the lip. 
And the ice in Spring comes sailing athwart 

the early ship; 

He told them of the frozen scene until 

they thrilled with fear, 
And piled fresh fuel on the hearth to make 

him better cheer. 



JEWELS OF PATRIOTISM. 



279 



But when he chang'd the strain, — he told 
how soon is cast 

In early Spring the fetters that hold the 
waters fast; 

How the Winter causeway, broken, is drift- 
ed out to sea, 

And the rills and rivers sing with pride the 
anthem of the free; 

How the magic wand of Summer clad the 
landscape to his eyes, 

Like the dry bones of the just when they 
wake in Paradise. 

He told them of the Algonquin braves — 

the hunters of the wild; 
Of how the Indian mother in the forest 

rocks her child; 
Of how, poor souls, they fancy in every 

living thing 



A spirit good or evil, that claims their 

worshipping; 
Of how they brought their sick and maim'd 

for him to breathe upon ; 
And of the wonders wrought for them, 

thro' the Gospel of St. John. 

He told them of the river whose mighty 
current gave 

Its freshness for a hundred leagues to 
ocean's briny wave; 

He told them of the glorious scene pre- 
sented to his sight, 

What time he reared the cross and crown 
on Hochelaga's height; 

And of the fortress clifif, that keeps of 
Canada the key; — 

And they welcomed back Jacques Cartier 
from his perils over sea. 

— Thomas D'Arcy McGce. 



HOW CANADA WAS SAVED. 

(May, 1660) 



a 



L faut ici donner la gloire a ces dix- 
sept Francois de Montreal, et hon- 
orer leurs cendres d'un eloge qui leur est 
deu avec justice, et que nous ne pouvons 
leur refuser sans ingratitude. Tout estait 
perdu, s'ils n'eussent peri, et leur malheur 
a suave ce pais." — Relations Des Jesuites, 
1660, p. 17. 

Beside the dark Utawa's stream, two hun- 
dred years ago, 

A wondrous feat of arms was wrought, 
which all the world should know ; 

'Tis hard to read with tearless eyes that 
record of the past. 

It stirs the blood, and fires the soul, as with 
a clarion's blast. 

What though no blazoned cenotaph, no 
sculptured columns, tell 

Where the stern heroes of my song in 
death triumphant fell; 



What though beside the foaming flood 
untombed their ashes lie. 

All earth becomes the monument of men 
who nobly die. 

A score of troublous years had passed since 
on Mount Royal's crest 

The gallant Maisoneuve upreared the Cross 
devoutly bless'd. 

And many of the saintly Guild that found- 
ed Ville-Marie 

With patriot pride had fought and died — 
determined to be free. 

Fiercely the Iroquois had sworn to sweep, 
like grains of sand, 

The sons of France from off the face of 
their adopted land, 

When, like the steel that oft disarms the 
lightning of its power, 

A fearless few their country saved in dan- 
ger's darkest hour. 



28o 



JEWELS OF PATRIOTISM. 



Daulac, the Captain of the Fort— in man- 
hood's fiery prime — 
Hath sworn by some immortal deed to 

make his name subhme, 
And sixteen "Soldiers of the Cross," his 

comrades true and tried, 
Have pledged their faith for life and 

death — all kneeling side by side; 
And this their oath: — On flood or field, to 

challenge face to face 
The ruthless hordes of Iroquois, the 

scourges of their race; 
No quarter to accept or grant, — And, loyal 

to the grave, 
To die like martyrs for the land they shed 

their blood to save. 

Shrived by the priest within the Church 
where oft they had adored, 

With solemn fervour they partake the Sup- 
per of the Lord; 

And now, those self-devoted youths from 
weeping friends have passed, 

And on the fort of Ville-Marie each fondly 
looks his last. 

Unskilled to steer the frail canoe, or stem 
the rushing tide, 

On . through a virgin wilderness, o'er 
stream and lake they glide. 

Till, weary of the paddle's dip, they moor 
their barks below 

A Rapid of Utawa's flood — the turbulent 
Long-Sault. 

There, where a grove of gloomy pines 

sloped gently to the shore, 
A moss-grown Palisade was seen — a Fort 

in days of yore; 
Fenced by its circle, they encamped; and 

on the listening air. 
Before those staunch Crusaders slept, arose 

the voice of prayer. 
Sentry and Scout kept watch and ward, 

and soon, with glad surprise, 
They welcomed to their roofless hold a 

band of dark allies, — 



Two stalwart chiefs and forty "braves," — 

all sworn to strike a blow 
In one great battle for their lives against 

the common foe. 

Soft was the breath of balmy Spring in that 

fair month of May, 
The wild flower bloomed, the wild bird 

sang on many a budding spray, — 
A tender blue was in the sky, on earth a 

tender green, 
And Peace seemed brooding, like a dove, 

o'er all the sylvan scene; 
When, loud and high, a thrilling cry dis- 
pelled the magic charm. 
And scouts came hurrying from the woods 

to bid their comrades arm, 
And bark canoes skimmed lightly down 

the torrent of the Sault, 
Manned by three hundred dusky forms — 

the long expected foe. 

They spring to land — a wilder brood hath 

ne'er appalled the sight — 
With carbines, tomahawks, and knives that 

gleam v/ith baleful light; 
Dark plumes of eagles crest their chiefs, 

and broidered deerskins hide 
The blood-red war-paint that shall soon a 

bloodier red be dyed. 
Hark! to the death-song that they chant, — 

behold them as they bound. 
With flashing eyes and vaunting tongues, 

defiantly around; 
Then, swifter than the wind, they fly, the 

barrier to invest 
Like hornet-swarms that heedless boys 

have startled from a nest. 

As Ocean's tempest-driven waves dash for- 
ward on a rock, 

And madly break in seething foam, hurl'd 
backward by the shock, 

So onward clashed that surging throng, so 
backward were they hurl'd. 



JEWELS OF PATRIOTISM. 



281 



When from the loopholes of the Fort flame 

burst and vapour curl'd. 
Each bullet aimed by bold Daulac went 

crashing through the brain, 
Or pierced the bounding heart of one who 

never stirred again; 
The trampled turf was drenched with 

blood — blood stained the passing 

wave — 
It seemed a carnival of death, the harvest 

of the grave. 

The sun went down — the fight was o'er — 

but sleep was not for those 
Who, pent within that frail redoubt, sighed 

vainly for repose; 
The shot that hissed above their heads. 

the Mohawks' taunting cries, 
Warned that never more on earth must 

slumber seal their eyes. 
In that same hour their swart allies, o'er- 

whelmed by craven dread, 
Leaped o'er the parapet like deer and 

traitorously fled; 
And, when the darkness of the night had 

vanished, like a ghost, 
Twenty and two were left — of all — to brave 

a maddened host. 

Foiled for a time, the subtle foes have sum- 
moned to their aid 

Five hundred kinsmen from the Isles, to 
storm the Palisade; 

And, panting for revenge, they speed, im- 
patient for the fray. 

Like birds of carnage from their homes 
allured by scent of prey. 

With scalp-locks streaming in the breeze, 
they charge — but never yet 



Have legions in the storm of fight a 

bloodier welcome met 
Than those doomed waniors, as they faced 

the desolating breath 
Of wide-mouthed musketoons that poured 

hot cataracts of death. 

Eight days of varied horrors passed! What 

boots it now to tell 
How the pale tenants of the Fort heroic- 
ally fell? 
Hunger, and thirst, and sleeplessness — 

death's ghastly aids — at length 
Marred and defaced their comely forms, 

and quelled their giant strength. 
The end draws nigh — they yearn to die- — 

one glorious rally more » 
For the dear sake of Ville-Marie, and all 

will soon be o'er; 
Sure of the martyr's golden Crown, they 

shrink not from the Cross, 
Life yielded for the land they love they 

scorn to reckon loss! 

The Fort is fired, and through the flames, 
with slippery, splashing tread, 

The red men stumble to the camp o'er ram- 
parts of the dead; 

There, with set teeth and nostril wide, Dau- 
lac the dauntless stood, 

And dealt his foes remorseless blows 'mid 
blinding smoke and blood, 

Till, hacked and hewn, he reeled to earth, 
with proud unconquered glance. 

Dead — but immortalized by death — Leon- 
idas of France! 

True to their oath, that glorious band no 
quarter basely craved; — 

So died the peerless Twenty-two, so Can- 
ada was saved ! — Geo. Murray. 



THE BATTLE OF GRAND PRE. 

(February 9, 1746.) 



OOM for the dead, the honored dead, 
in this fair year of grace ; 
In the Valhalla of the brave, give them a 
glorious place! 



The loyal men who crossed the sea, and 

came with battle ring. 
To hold this free fair land of ours a 

province for their king. 



282 



JEWELS OF PATRIOTISM. 



When Winter's iron fetters bound river and 

lake and bay, 
And snow-drifts, piled in fleecy white, on 

plain and mountain lay, 
Where Blomidon's blue crest looks down 

upon the valley land, 
And the great waves of Fundy lap the 

grey stones on the strand; 
Here, where the scattered homesteads 

stood, from time and labor won. 
The, brave commander of the force quar- 
tered his garrison. 
Retaining for his citadel the old French 

stone house, set 
Where the ripple of the Gaspereaux sighs 

round its ruins yet. 

Down from the heights of Cobequid, on 

noiseless snow shoes borne, 
-Slowly the crafty foeman came, by march 

and travel worn; 
Lightly the low toboggans swept, bearing 

their motley freight, 
Food for the rebels on the march, shot for 

the brave who wait; 
Broad rivers, all unknown to name, their 

stealthy footsteps crossed. 
The Shubenacadie, Ste. Croix, and Avon 

bridged by frost; 
For sixteen weary days they crept over 

these leagues of snow. 
As the grim panther tracks his prey, so 

stole they on the foe. 
In the deep stillness of the night, — out from 

he cold, black cloud. 
The snowflakes, falling one by one, the 

hemlock branches bowed; 
Forest, and plain, and hamlet, all hushed 

in slumber deep, 
And still before the driving blast the freez- 
ing Frenchmen creep; 
With panting breath and weary tread, 

through midnight's icy blast. 
With murder in their hearts, they reach the 

Grand Pre camp at last. 



The sentinels were at their post, within the 

watchers slept. 
Hushed in the tumult which the storm and 

cruel snow-drift kept; 
Oh, God! that brave men thus should die, 

no time to rouse or stir; 
One hundred English soldiers fell in that 

dread massacre, 
Guarding the colors of their king in this 

new province land, — 
Scalped by the Indians' tomahawk, hewn 

down by alien hand! 

Roused by the din at dead of night, pierc- 
ing the stone house then, 
Brave Noble faced, with sword in hand, 

those fierce and blood-stained men; 
The bitter wind in fury swept around his 

half-clad form. 
The flash of steel and sweep of shot, more 

cruel than the storm; 
The Red Cross flag of England waved 

above his fortress rude. 
And brave, as all her loyal sons, he well her 

foes withstood ; 
All worn and faint, from battle sore, 

wounded in heart and frame, 
From dying lips the valiant shout of "No 

surrender!" came. 
Nor nobler names can Britain write upon 

her glorious scroll 
Than those who held the fort that night 

where Minas' waters roll, — 
Surprised, and overpowered and slain, yet 

heroes everyone. 
Those cold, set faces, white and still, turned 

to the rising sun. 
Though many a score of years has marked 

this earth with loss and gain. 
Since Noble fought his last long fight on 

Grand Pre's snowy plain, 
No stone is raised to mark the place where 

his brave comrades fell, 
No monument above his grave, of valiant 

deeds to tell. 



JEWELS OF PATRIOTISM. 



283 



Room for the honored dead to-day, in 

memory's tender grace, 
To chronicle their glorious deeds above 

their burial-place. 
Crimean heroes, all our own, Lucknow and 

Kars stiU tell 
That Nova Scotia's sons can serve their 

Queen and country well! 
But, with their fame, let us recall the battle 

long ago, 
When English soldiers met the French at 

daybreak in the snow. 
And held the fort, and kept the flag, as only 

heroes could. 
Where, in this orchard land of ours, the old 

grey stone house stood. 



Now, in this year of Jubilee, wdien living 

deeds are read. 
Glance backward through the centuries 

which hold our honored dead, — 
Where Lechmere sank, and Pickering died, 

where the brave Noble fell. 
Under our own old English flag, the flag 

they loved so well; 
Where sunny Gaspereaux sweeps on amid 

the apple trees. 
And the blue waves of Minas chant a re- 
quiem to the breeze; 
Raise shaft or column to the dead, let some 

memorial fair 
Tell 'to our children's children still that 

Heroes slumber there! 

— M. J. Kat.zinann Lazusoji. 



TECUMSEH'S DEATH. 



MID that scene, like some dark tow- 
ering fiend. 
With death-black eyes and hands all 
spotted o'er, 
The fierce Tecumseh on his tall lance 
leaned. 
Fired with much spoil and drunk with 
human gore; 
And now his blasting glance ferocious 
gleamed — 
The chief who leads the eagles to his 
shore — 
When, with one scream that devils might 

appal. 
Deep in his breast he lodged the whizzing 
ball. 

Like the quick bolt that follows on the flash 
Which rends the mountain oak in fearful 
twain. 
So springs the warrior with infernal dash 

Upon the Christian writhing in his pain; 
High gleamed his hatchet, ready now to 
crash 
Along the fibers of his swimming brain, 



When from the adverse arm a bullet flew 
With force resistless, and with aim too true. 

The baffled Chieftain tottered, sunk, and 

fell, 
Rage in his heart, and vengeance in his 

glance ; 
His features ghastly pale — his breast v/as 

hell; 
One bound he made to seize his fallen 

lance. 
But quick the death-shades o'er his vision 

swell, 
His arm dropped nerveless, straining to 

advance ; 
One look of hatred, and the last, he gave. 
Then sunk and slumbered with the fallen 

brave. 

Forth from the copse a hundred foemen 
spring. 
And pounce like vultures on the bleeding 
clay; 
Like famished bloodhoimds to the corse 
they cling. 
And bear the fallen hero's spoils away; 



284 



I E W E T. S OF PATRIOTISM. 



The very covering from his nerves they 
wring, 
And gash his form, and glut them o'er 
their prey, — 



Wild hell-fiends all, and reveling at his 

death, 
With bursting shrieks and pestilential 

breath. 

— Major Richardson. 



ALONG THE LINE. 



A. D. 1812. 



^^TEADY be your beacon's blaze 
\^ Along the line! along the line! 
Freely sing your Freedom's praise 

Along the line! along the line! 
Let the only sword you draw 
Bear the legend of the law. 
Wield it less to strike than awe 

Along the line! along the line! 

Let them rail against the North 

Beyond the line; beyond the line! 
When it sends its heroes forth 

Along the line! along the line! 
On the field or in the camp 
They shall tremble at your tramp. 
Men of the old Norman stamp, 

Along the line! along- the fine! 



Wealth and pride may rear their crests. 
Beyond the line! beyond the line! 
They bring no terror to our breasts, 

Along the line! along the line! 
We have never bought or sold 
Afric's sons with Mexic's gold. 
Conscience arms the free and bold. 

Along the line! along the line! 

Steadfast stand, and sleepless ward. 

Along the line! along the line! 

Great the treasures that you guard 

Along the line! along the line! 

By the babes whose sons shall be 

Crown'd in far futurity 

With the laurels of the free, 

Stand your guard along the line! 
— Thomas D'Arcy McGee. 



IN THE NORTHWEST— 1885. 



lORWARD!" 

The captain said. 
Out of the morning's red 
Brave and noble and dread. 
With hero and martial tread. 
Into the North and the Westward 

Over dim forest and lake. 
Over lone prairie and brake. 
The clamor of battle to wake 
For kindred and country's sake. 
Into the North and the Westward. 

'Forward!" 

'Neath northern sky. 
Ready to fight and die; 



Where the shadowy marshbirds fly 
With their weird and lonely cry. 
Far to the North and the Westward. 

Only the rifle's crack. 

And answer of rifle back; 

Heavy each haversack. 

Dreary the prairie's track 

Far to the North and the Westward. 

"Forward!" 

Seeking the foe, 
Starving and bleeding they go, 
Into the sleet and the snow. 
Over bleak rivers that flow 
Far to the North and the Westward. 



JEWELS OF PATRIOTISM. 



285 



Falling on frozen strands; 
Falling-, devoted bands. 
Sleeping with folded hands! 



Dead, for home and for lands — 
Dead in the North and the Westward! 
— William Wilfred Campbell. 



LORD DUFFERIN'S TRIBUTE TO QUEEN VICTORIA. 



N the 2 1 St of November, 1872, at 
Victoria Square, Montreal, Lord 
Duiiferin, then Governor-General of Can- 
ada, unveiled the statue erected by the 
citizens in honor of Her Majesty, Queen 
Victoria. His remarks are well worth pre- 
serving and are here given in full: 

"Gentlemen: — It is with a degree of 
pleasure, very difficult to express in words, 
that I find myself engaged in the discharge 
of a duty so appropriate to my office, and 
so congenial to my feelings, as that which 
you have imposed upon me to-day. Among 
the many circumstances which have made 
me feel at what a fortunate epoch I have 
arrived in Canada, by no means the least 
agreeable is the fact that there should have 
been reserved to me this opportunity of 
taking part in a ceremony which evinces, 
in so marked and general a manner, the 
unfailing loyalty and affection entertained 
by the citizens of this large, prosperous and 
wealthy town to the person and throne of 
our Sovereign. It is, therefore, with the 
most heartfelt satisfaction that I undertake 
the function now allotted to me, and that I 
become the momentary depositary of this 
unique and precious gift with which you, 
gentlemen, the subscribers to the under- 
taking, are desirous to grace your city, and 
which you now commission me to hand 
over as a perpetual ornament to the in- 
habitants of Montreal and to their children 
forever. And I must say it is to no mean 
heritage that these future generations will 
fall heirs, for, thanks to the magic power 
of the sculptor long after we and those who 
have loved and honored Queen Victoria 
shall have passed away, there will still re- 



main to them and to their descendants, 
untouched by time, this breathing repre- 
sentation of that open and intelligent re- 
gard that sweet womanly grace and 
imperial majesty of aspect, which in her 
lifetime combined to render the presence 
of the Queen of England more august than 
that of any contemporary monarch. It is 
to you, then, citizens of Montreal, that I 
now turn; it is in your hands that I now 
place this sacred deposit; it is on you that 
I lay the charge of guarding for yourselves 
and those who come after you this fair 
image of your Queen, this gracious imper- 
sonation of the Majesty of Britain, this 
stately type and pledge of our Imperial 
unity, this crowned and sceptered symbol 
of those glorious institutions which we 
have found to be so conducive to the main- 
tenance of the individual liberty, and of 
constitutional freedom. 

"Gentlemen, it was my good fortune in 
early life to serve near the person of our 
Sovereign. At that time no domestic ca- 
lamity had thrown its ineffaceable shadow 
across the threshold of her home. I was 
then a spectator of her daily life, its pure 
joys, its refined and noble occupations, its 
duties never neglected, but their burdens 
shared by the tenderest of husbands and 
most sagacious of friends. It was then that 
I learned the secret of that hold Her 
Majesty possesses over the hearts of her 
subjects in every part of her extensive em- 
pire,- and when in latter days death had 
forever shattered the bright visions of her 
early happiness, and left her to discharge, 
alone and unaided, during long years of 
widowhood, in the isolation of an empty 



286 



JEWELS OF PATRIOTISM. 



palace, the weighty and oppressive func- 
tions of her royal station, renewed oppor- 
tunities were afforded me of observing with 
what patience, patriotism and devotion to 
the public service her brave and noble 
nature bore each burden and discharged 
each daily task. From dissipation, gaieties, 
the distraction of society, the widowed 
Sovereign may have shrunk, but from duty 
never. When, therefore, you cast your eyes 
up to this work of art, let the image of the 
woman, as well as of the Queen, be en- 
shrined in your recollections, and let each 
citizen remember that in her, whose sculp- 
tured lineaments he now regards, he has an 
example of prosperity borne with meekness 
of adversity with patience, of the path of 
duty unfalteringly followed, and of a blame- 
lessness of existence whig-h has been a 
source of pride to every English heart, and 
whose pure and radiant influence has shed 
its holy light on a thousand thousand Brit- 
ish homes. Above all, let each Canadian 
patriot remember as he contemplates with 
pride the ever brightening destinies of his 
native country — let your children and your 



children's children remember, as generation 
after generation, this great Dominion gath- 
ers strength and power, that it was under 
the auspices and the government of her 
whose statue I now confide unto your keep- 
ing that these mighty Provinces were con- 
federated into a still mightier state, and that 
the foundations of that broad Dominion 
were laid which I trust is destined to prove 
the brightest ornament, and I trust the most 
powerful adjunct, of the Empire of Britain. 
"Gentlemen, I thank you again for the 
opportunity you have given me of taking 
part in these proceedings, and for those 
kind expressions which you have addressed 
to me personally. I feel I can make no 
better return than by saying that, in the 
discharge of my office in this country, it is 
my desire and hope to follow, at however 
humble a distance, the example of that be- 
loved Sovereign who, during a long reign, 
has faithfully trod in the paths of the Brit- 
ish Constitution, and has never once failed 
in her duty to her Crown, her Ministers, her 
Parliament, or her people." 



THE CHARGE OF THE CAVALRY. 




^ ITH bray of the trumpet 
And roll of the drum. 
And keen ring of bugles, 

The cavalry come, 
Sharp clank the steel scabbards, 

The bridle-chains ring. 
And foam from red nostrils 
The wild chargers fling. 

Tramp! tramp! o'er the green sward 

That quivers below. 
Scarce held by the curb-bit. 

The fierce horses go ! 
And the grim-visaged colonel, 

With ear-rending shout. 
Peals forth to the squadrons, 

The order— "Trot out." 



One hand on the saber, 

And one on the rein, 
The troopers move forward 

In line on the plain. 
As rings the word "Gallop!" 

The steel scabbards clank, 
And each rowel is pressed 

To a horse's hot flank: 
And swift is their rush 

As the wild torrent's flow. 
When it pours from the crag 

On the valley below. 

"Charge!" thunders the leader. 
Like shaft from the bow 
Each mad horse is hurled 
On the wavering foe. 



JEWELS OF PATRIOTISM. 



287 



A thousand bright sabers 

Are gleaming in air ; 
A thousand dark horses 

Are dashed on the square. 

Resistless and reckless 

Of aught may betide, 
Like demons, not mortals, 

The wild troopers ride. 
Cut right! and cut left! 

For the parry who needs? 
The bayonets shiver 

Like wind-shattered reeds! 

Vain — vain the red volley 

That bursts from the square- 



The random-shot bullets 

Are wasted in air. 
Triumphant, remorseless, 

Unerring as death — 
No saber that's stainless 

Returns to its sheath. 

The wounds that are dealt 

By that murderous steel 
Will never yield case 

For the surgeons to heal. 
Hurrah ! they are broken — 

Hurrah! boys they fly — 
None linger save those 

Who but lingfer to die. 



REFLECTIONS ON A BATTLEFIELD. 



,NCE this soft turf, tnis rivulet's sands. 
Were trampled by a hurrying 
crowd. 
And fiery hearts and armed hands 
Encountered in the battle cloud. 

Ah! never shall the land forget 

How gushed the life-blood of her brave, 
Gushed, warm with hope and courage yet. 

Upon the soil they sought to save. 

Now all is calm, and fresh, and still, 
Alone the chirp of flitting bird. 

And talk of children on the hill, 

And bell of wandering kine are heard. 

Soon rested those who fought; but thou 
Who mightiest in the harder strife 

For truths which men receive not now, 
Thy warfare only ends with life. 

A friendless warfare ! lingering long 
Through weary day and weary year. 

A wild and many-weaponed throng 
Hang on thy front, and flank, and rear. 



Yet nerve thy spirit to the proof, 
And blench not at thy chosen lot. 

The timid good may stand aloof, 

The sage may front — yet faint thou noi, 

Nor heed the shaft too surely cast, 
The foul and hissing bolt of scorn ; 

For with thy side shall dwell, at last, 
The victory of endurance born. 

Truth, crushed to earth, shall rise again; 

The eternal years of God are hers ; 
But Error, wounded, writes with pain, 

And dies among his worshipers. 

Yea, though thou He upon the dust, 

When they who helped thee flee in ie?.r. 

Die full of hope and manly trust, 
Like those who fell in battle here. 

Another hand thy sword shall wield, 
Another hand the standard wave. 

Till from the trumpet's mouth is pealed 
The blast of triumph o'er thy grave. 
— W. C. Brvant. 



JEWELS OF PATRIOTISM. 



FONTENOY. 



(f« Y our camp fires rose a murmur, 
[^ At the dawning of the day, 
And the tread of many footsteps 

Spoke the advent of the fray; 
And as we took our places. 

Few and stern were our words, 
While some were tightening horse-girths. 

And some were girding swords. 

The trumpet blast has sounded 

Our footmen to array; 
The willing steed has bounded, 

Impatient for the fray; 
The green flag is unfolded. 

While rose the cry of joy, 
"Heaven speed dear Ireland's banner, 

To-day at Fontenoy." 

We looked upon that banner. 

And the memory arose 
Of our homes and perished kindred, 

Where the Lee or Shannon flows ; 
We looked upon that banner, 

And we swore to God on high. 
To smite to-day the Saxon's might, — 

To conquer or to die. 

Loud swells the charging trumpet, — 

'Tis a voice from our own land; 
God of battles — God of vengeance. 

Guide to-day the patriot band; 
There are stains to wash away; 

There are memories to destroy, 
In the best blood of the Briton 

To-day at Fontenoy. 

Plunge deep the fiery rowels 
In a thousand reeking flanks, — 

Down, chivalry of Ireland, 
Down on the British ranks: 

Now shall their serried columns 
Beneath our sabres reel, — 



Through their ranks, then, with the war- 
horse ; 
Through their bosoms with the steel. 

With one shout for good King Louis, 

And the fair land of the vine, 
Like the wrathful Alpine tempest, 

We swept upon their line, — 
Then rang along the battle-field 

Triumphant our hurrah. 
And we smote them down, still cheering 

"Erin, slanthagal go bragh."* 

As prized as is the blessing 

From an aged father's lip, — 
As welcome as the heaven 

To the tempest-driven ship, — 
As dear as to the lover 

The smile of gentle maid, — 
Is this day of long-sought vengeance 

To the swords of the Brigade. 

See their shattered forces flying, 

A broken, routed line, — 
See England, what brave laurels 

For your brow to-day we twine. 
Oh, thrice bless'd the hour that witnessed 

The Briton turn to flee 
From the chivalry of Erin, 

And France's "fleur de lis." 

xA.s we lay beside our camp fires. 

When the sun had passed away, 
And thought upon our brethren, 

Who had perished in the fray, — 
Who prayed to God to grant us, 

And then we'd die with joy. 
One day upon our own dear land 

Like this of Fontenoy. 



*Ireland, the bright toast forever. 

— Bartholoiiiezv Dozvling. 



JEWELS OF PATRIOTISM. 



289 



FOR THE EMPIRE. 

(On the Leaving of the Second Contingent for South Africa.) 



IHEY are going, they are going, from 

our hearths and homes, to-day, 
To uphold the Old Flag's glory, in a land 

that's far away; 
Heirs are they of Talavera — Salamanca — 

Waterloo, — 
Blenheim — Ramillies — Maplequet — and 

the dark Crimea, too ; 
Theirs, the highr descent of Valor, born of 

many a famous name, — 
Theirs, the right to guard the colors on the 

deatMess scroll of Fame ; 
They are going, they are going, and the 

people's parting cheers 
Drown the gentle sister's weeping and the 

mother's hidden tears. 

They have heard the voice of duty. Each 

of them this solemn* day, 
Stands for Britain and the Empire, let the 

end be what it may; 
They have rallied to the colors, dauntless 

Saxon, Gael, and Celt, 
And they march to stay Oppression, on 

the far-off southern veldt ; 
Theirs to bear the Empire's hurden, shot 

and shell and bayonet charge. 
Theirs to breast the narrow* trenches, dug 

nigh Battle's bloody marge ; 
Theirs, mayhap, to see life's sunshine fade 

within the gathered gloom. 
Theirs, the soldier's decoration — or the 

hero's unknown tomb. 



Theirs, the ecstasy of Battle, where the 

manly spirit thrills, 
When the joy of deadly combat every das- 
tard feeling stills ; 
God be with them, gallant fellows, may His 

hand their young lives shield, 
When the trumpet-blast of Duty calls them 

to the stricken field. 
And, when victory is with them, let the 

strong right-arm be stayed, 
When the stricken foe is helpless, may his 

cold steel be delayed ; 
'Ware the soldier's after-madness — 'ware 

the dark o'erwhelming flood 
That oft sinks the kindest nature in the 

cruel lust for blood. 

They are going, they are going, from our 

hearts and homes to-day. 
To uj?hold the Old' Flag's glory, in a land 

that's far away ; 
Heirs are they of Talavera — Salamanca — 

Waterloo — 
Blenheim — Ramillies — Maplequet — and 

the dark Crimea, too ; 
Theirs, the high descent of Valor, born of 

many a famous name — 
Theirs, the right to guard the colors on the 

deathless scroll of Fame, 
And they're going, they are going, whilst 

the people's parting cheers 
Drown the gentle sister's weeping and the 

mother's hidden tears. 

— Eustace H K. Cockin. 



YOUR COUNTRY'S CALL. 



ISTEN, young heroes, your country 
is calling. 

Time strikes the hour for the brave and 
the true ! 
Now while the foremost are fighting and 
falling. 
Fill up the ranks that are open for you! 



You, whom the fathers made free and de- 
fended. 
Stain not the scroll that emblazons their 
fame ! 
You, whose fair heritage spotless de- 
scended. 
Leave not your children a birthright of 
shame! — 0. W. Holmes. 




A HANDY, ACCESSIBLE HOME LIBEAKY. 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL. 



1^ Jf 8^ 




HO is there who does not at times 
ffWf lo"S fo'" tl^^ quiet and restfulness 
of a pastoral life? The noise of the strife 
and confusion of the battle of life is not 
heard in the sylvan shades. One of the 
sweetest poems having relation to a pure 
and placid existence is "Mother's Old Arm 
Chair:" 

I love it! I love it! and who shall dare 
To chide me for loving that old arm chair? 
I've treasured it long as a sainted prize, 
I've bedewed it with tears and embalmed it 

with sighs, 
'Tis bound by a thousand bands to my heart 
Not a tie will break, not a link will start. 
Would you know the spell? A mother sat 

there ! 
And a sacred thing is that old arm chair. 

In childhood's hour I lingered near 
That hallowed seat with a listening ear, 
To the gentle words that mother would give, 
To fit me to die, and teach me to live. 
She told me shame v/ould never betide, 



With truth for my creed and God for my 

guide ; 
She taught me to lisp my earliest prayer. 
As I knelt beside that old arm chair. 

I sat and I watched her many a day 
When her eyes grew dim, and her locks 

were gray, 
And I almost worshiped her when she 

smiled 
And turned from her Bible to bless her 

child : 
Years rolled on, but the last one sped, 
My idol was shattered, my earth-star fled I 
I felt how much the heart can bear, 
When I saw her die in that old arm chair. 

'Tis past! 'tis past! but I gaze on it now 
With quivering lip and throbbing brow ; 
'Twas there she nursed me, 'twas there she 

died. 
And memory still flows with the lava tide. 
Say it is folly, and deem me weak, 
As the scalding drops start down my cheek ; 
But I love it ! I love it ! and cannot tear 
My soul from my mother's old arm chair! 



GRANDMA WORKING 'MONGST HER FLOWERS. 



SCENE I well remember, 
As the years go hurrying by, 
Comes with odors of the old time 

And the color's gentlest dye : 
'Tis set beneath my window, 

In the home my childhood knew, 
Where the honeysuckle clambered, 
And the lilac bushes grew. 



Where marigold and jasmine 

And the lavender so sweet 
Bless the senses morn and even 

With their mingled-odor treat ; 
But sweetest, neatest, best, sir. 

In the late and early hours. 
Was the center of the picture — 

Grandma working 'mongst her flowers. 



291 



292 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL. 



The summer dawn stole in my 

Window, breathing bloomy smell ; 
Often with another blessing 

That my heart remembers well — 
An old, old song, a love song. 

Sung by trembling lips I knew; 
But those dear old lips were sweet as 

Flower 'near the loving dew. 
And song and odor waked me 

From my childhood's dreamless sleep, 
Like an angel's song o' sunrise. 

Making all my young life leap ; 
And always when I heard it 

Would I seek the lilac bowers, 
Just to kiss that dear old lady — 

Grandma working 'mongst her flowers. 



I wandered off, as boys will 

Do, to see the distant town; 
I must be a man, I thought, grow 

Big and stout and win renown. 
But still thro' all those years, thro' 

Love, thro' pain, success, defeat. 
Came my grandma's dear old love song, 

Stealing with its old-time sweet. 



At last a letter said, "Come 

Home, for grandma's very old ;'* 
And I hastened, for I knew that 

All the story was not told. 
She lay a-plucking at the 

Cover worked with lilac showers, 
And I faltered, as I kissed her, 

"Grandma working 'mongst her flowers." 

And, kneeling there beside her 

Bed, I sang her, leaning low. 
Sob-rent lines of that old song she 

Used to sing me long ago. 
A moment in my eyes she 

Looked, her hand upon my head. 
Smiled as in the olden, and 

Knew me, ere her spirit fled. 
If by and by I reach the 

Land where dwell the Saviour's blest. 
All will there be peace, contentment, 

There will be the sweetest rest. 
But all would hardly perfect 

Be behind heaven's morning towers 
If I failed to hear that song from 

Grandma working 'mongst her flowers. 
— L. R. Hamberlin. 



THE RAIN ON THE ROOF 

HEN the humid shadows hover 
over all the starry spheres, 
And the melancholy darkness gently weeps 

in rainy tears. 
What a joy to press the pillow of a cottage 

chamber bed. 
And to listen to the patter of the soft rain 
overhead ! 



Every tinkle on the shingles has an echo in 

the heart. 
And a thousand dreamy fancies into busy 

being start, 
And a thousand recollections weave their 

bright hues into woof. 
As I listen to the patter of the soft rain on 

the roof. 



Now in fancy comes my mother, as she used 

to years agone. 
To survey the infant sleepers ere she left 

them till the dawn. 
O ! I see her bending o'er me, as I list to 

the refrain 
Which is played upon the shingles by the 

patter of the rain. 



Then my little seraph sister, v/ith her wings 

and waving hair. 
And her bright-eyed cherub brother — a 

serene, angelic pair — 
Glide around my wakeful pillow with their 

praise or mild reproof, 
As I listen to the murmur of the soft rain 

on the roof. 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL. 



293 



And another comes to thrill me with her 

eyes' delicious blue, 
I forget, as gazing on her, that her heart 

was all untrue; 
I remember that I loved her with a rapture 

kin to pain. 
While my heart's quick pulses vibrate to 

the patter of the rain. 



There is naught in art's bravuras that can 

work with such a spell, 
In the spirit's pure, deep fountains, whence 

the holy passions well. 
As that melody of nature — that subdued, 

subduing strain 
Which is played upon the shingles by the 

patter of the rain. 

— Coates Kinney. 



OVER THE RIVER THEY BECKON. 



I VER the river they beckon to me, 

Loved ones who crossed to the 
other side 
The gleam of their snowy robes I see. 
But their voices are drowned by the rush- 
ing tide. 
There's one with ringlets of sunny gold, 
And eyes the reflection of heaven's own 
blue; 
He crossed in the twilight gray ana cold, 
And the pale mist hid him from mortal 
view 
We saw not the angels that met him there — 

The gate of the city we could not see ; 
Over the river, over the river^ 

My brother stands, waiting to welcome 
me. 

Over the river the boatman pale 

Carried another, the household pet ; 
Her brown curls waved in the gentle gale — 

Darling Minnie! I see her yet! 
She closed on her bosom her dimpled hands, 

And fearlessly entered the phantom bark ; 
We watched it glide from the silver sands, 

And all our sunshine grew strangely dark. 
We know she is safe on the farther side. 

Where all the ransomed and angels be; 
Over the river, the mystic river. 

My childhood's idol is waiting for me. 

For none return from those quiet shores, 
Who cross with the boatman cold and 
pale ; 



We hear the dip of the golden oars, 

And catch a glimpse of the snowy sail; 
And lo! they have passed from our yearn- 
ing hearts — 
They cross the stream and are gone for 
aye. 
We may not sunder the veil apart 

That hides from our vision the gates of 
day; 
We only know that their barks no more 

Sail with us o'er life's stormy sea; 
Yet somewhere, I know, on the unseen 
shore, 
They watch, and beckon, and wait for me. 

And I sit and think when the sunset's gold 
Is flushing the river and hill, and 
shore, 
I shall one day stand by the waters cold 
And list to the sound of the boatman's 
oar. 
I shall watch for a gleam of the flapping 
sail ; 
I shall hear the boat as it gains the strand; 
I shall pass from sight with the boatman 
pale 
To the better shore of the spirit-land. 
I shall know the loved who have gone be- 
fore, 
And joyfully sweet will the meeting be, 
When over the river, the peaceful river. 
The angel of death shall carry me. 

— Nancy A. W. Priest. 



294 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL. 



BEAUTIFUL ANNABEL LEE. 



fT WAS many and many a year ago. 
In a kingdom by the sea, 
That a maiden lived whom you may know 

By the name of Annabel Lee; 
And this maiden she lived with no other 
thought 
Than to love and be loved by me. 

I was a child, and she was a child 

In this kingdom by the sea ; 
But we loved with a love that was more 
than love — 
I and my Annabel Lee, — 
With a love that the winged seraphs of 
heaven 
Coveted her and me. 

And this was the reason that long ago, 

In this kingdom by the sea. 
That her high-born kinsman came, 

And bore her away from me; 
To shut her up in a sepulcher, 

In this kingdom by the sea. 

The angels, not so happy in heaven. 

Went envying her and me, 
Yes ! that was the reason (as all men know) 

In this kingdom by the sea, 

ISLE OF THE 

|H, a wonderful stream is the river of | 
Time, 
As it runs through the realms of tears, 
With a faultless rhythm and a musical 

rhyme. 
And a boundless sweep and a surge sub- 
lime. 
As it blends with the Ocean of Years. 

How the winters are drifting, like flakes of 

snow, 
And the summers, hke buds between; 
And the years in the sheaf™so they come 

and they go 



That the wind came out of the cloud by 
night, 
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee. 

But our love it was stronger by far than the 
love 

Of those who were older than we, 

Of many far wiser than we; 
And neither the angels in heaven above 

Nor the demons down under the sea. 
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul 

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee. 

For the moon never beams without bring- 
ing me dreams 
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee, 
And the stars never rise but I feel the 
bright eyes 
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee. 
And so, all the night-tide I lie down by the 

side 
Of my darling, my darling, my life, and my 
bride. 
In her sepulcher there by the sea. 
In her tomb by the sounding sea. 

— Edgar A. Poe. 

LONG AGO. 

On the river's breast, with its ebb and flow, 
As it glides in the shadow and sheen. 



There's a magical isle up the river of Time, 

Where the softest of airs are playing; 
There's a cloudless sky and a tropical clime. 
And a song as sweet as a vesper chime. 
And the Junes with the roses are staying. 

And the name of that Isle is the Long Ago, 

And we bury our treasures there; 
There are brows of beauty and bosoms of 
snow— 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL. 



295 



There are heaps of dust — but we love 
them so! — 
There are trinkets and tresses of hair; 

There are fragments of song that nobody 
sings, 
And a part of an infant's prayer, 
There's a lute unswept, and a harp without 

strings ; 
There are broken vows and pieces of rings, 
And the garments that she used to wear. 

There are hands that are waved, when the 
fairy shore 
By the mirage is lifted in air; 



And we sometimes hear^ through the tur- 
bulent roar. 

Sweet voices we heard m the days gone 
before. 
When the wind down the river is fair. 

Oh, remembered for aye, be the blessed 
Isle, 
All the day of our life till night — 
When the evening comes with its beautiful 

smile. 
And our eyes are closing to slumber awhile, 
May that "Greenwood" of Soul be in 
sight! 



LIFE'S BATTLE NEAR AN END. 



LAS! I'm growing old, my hair, once 
thick and brown, 
Is now quite white and silky, and sparse 

about the crown; 
A year, that once seemed endless, now 

passes like a dream, 
Yet my boat still rides the billows, as it 

floats along the stream. 

My eye, once like the eagle's, is now much 

dimmed by age. 
And art alone enables me to read the 

printed page. 
Yet still it rests with quickened glance 

upon each lovely scene, 
As years roll by with silent pace and 

changes come between. 



Life is full of gladness if we but make it so. 

There's not a wave of sorrow but has an 
undertow. 

A stout heart and a simple faith gives vic- 
tory o'er the grave, 

And God awaits all patiently, all powerful 
to save. 



'Tis not a cross to live, nor is it hard to die. 
If we but view the future with steadfast, 

fearless eye. 
Looking ever on the bright side, where 

falls the sun's warm beam. 
Our boats will ride the billows as they float 

along the stream. 

— Wayne Howe Parsons. 



THE VOICES OF THE BELLS. 



WEAR the tolling of the bells, iron 
bells! 
What a world of solemn thought their 

monody compels! 
In the silence of the night, how we shiver 
with afifright 
At the melancholy menace of their 
tone! 



For every sound that floats from the rust 
within their throats 
Is a groan. 
And the people— ah, the people, they that 
dwell up in the steeple 
All alone, 
And who tolling, tolling, tolling, in that 
muffled monotone, 



296 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL. 



Feel a glory in so rolling on the human 

heart a stone — 
They are neither man nor woman, they are 

neither brute nor human, 
They are ghouls : 
And their king it is who tolls; and he rolls, 

rolls, rolls, rolls 
A paean from the bells! and his merry 

bosom swells 
With the paean of the bells! and he dances 

and he yells; 



Keeping time, time, time, in a sort of 
Runic rhyme. 
To the paean of the bells, of the bells: 
Keeping time, time, time, in a sort of Runic 
rhyme. 
To the tolling of the bells. 
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, 

bells, bells — 
To the moaning and the groaning of 
the bells. 

— £. A . Poe, 



"'TWAS TWENTY YEARS AGO, TOM." 



f'VE wandered to the village, Tom; Fve 
sat beneath the tree 
Upon the school house playground that 

sheltered you and me; 
But none were there to greet mefTom; 

and few were left to know, 
Who played with us upon the green, some 
twenty years ago. 

The grass is just as green, Tom; bare- 
footed boys at play 

Were sporting, just as we did then, with 
> spirits just as gay. 

But the "master" sleeps upon the hill, 
which coated o'er with snow, 

Afiforded us a sliding place, some twenty 
years ago. 

The old school house is altered now, the 
benches are replaced 

By new ones, very like the same our pen- 
knives once defaced; 

But the same old bricks are in the wall; 
the bell swings to and fro; 

It's music just the same, dear Tom, 'twas 
twenty years ago. 

The boys were playing some old game be- 
neath that same old tree; 

I have forgot the name just now — you've 
played the same with mc 



On that same spot; 'twas played with 
knives, by throwing so and so; 

The loser had a task to do — these twenty 
years ago. 

The river's running just as still; the wil- 
lows on its side 

Are larger than they were, Tom; the 
stream appears less wide; 

But the grape-vine swing is ruined now, 
where once we played the beau. 

And swung our sweethearts — pretty girls 
— just twenty years ago. 

The spring that bubbled 'neath the hill 

close by the spreading beach 
Is very low — 'twas then so high that we 

could scarcely reach; 
And kneeling down to get a drink, dear 

Tom, I started so, 
To see how sadly I am changed, since 

twenty years ago. 

Near by that spring, upon an elm, you 

know I cut your name; 
Your sweetheart's just beneath it, Tom, 

and you did mine the same; 
Some heartless wretch has peeled the bark; 

'twas dying sure but slow, 
Just as she died, whose name you cut, some 

twenty years ago. 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL. 



29; 



My lids have long been dry, Tom, but tears 

came to my eyes; 
I thought of her I loved so well, those early 

broken ties; 
I visited the old church-yard, and took 

some flowers to strow 
Upon the graves of those we loved, some 

twenty years ago. 



Some are in the church-yard laid, some 

sleep beneath the sea; 
But few are left of our old class, excepting 

you and me; 
And when our time shall come, Tom, and 

we are called to go, 
I hope they'll lay us where we played, just 

twenty years ago. 

— Stephen Mar sell. 



THE ROUND OF LIFE, 



IWO children down by the shining 
strand, 

With eyes as blue as the summer sea, 
While the sinking sun fills all the land 

With the glow of a golden mystery: 
Laughing aloud at the sea-mew's cry, 
Gazing with joy on its snowy breast. 
Till the first star looks from the evening 
sky, 
And the amber bars stretch over the 
west. 

A soft green dell by the breezy shore, 

A sailor lad and a maiden fair; 
Hand clasped in hand, while the tale of 
yore 

Is borne again on the listenmg air. 
For love is young, though love be old. 

And love alone the heart can fill; 
And the dear old tale, that has been told 

In the days gone by, is spoken still. 

A trim-built home on a sheltered bay; 

A wife looking out on the listening sea; 
A prayer for the loved one far away. 

And prattling imps 'neath the old roof- 
tree; 



A lifted latch and a radiant face 

By the open door in the falling night; 

A welcome home and a warm embrace 
From the love of his youth and his chil- 
dren bright. 

An aged man in an old arm-chair; 

A golden light from the western sky; 
His wife by his side, with her silvered hair, 

And the open book of God close by. 
Sweet on the bay the gloaming falls. 

And bright is the glow of the evening 
star; 
But dearer to them are the jasper walls 

And the golden streets of the Land afar. 

An old church-yard on a green hillside, 
Two lying still in their peaceful rest; 
The fishermen's boats going out with the 
tide 
In the fiery glow of the amber west. 
Children's laughter and old men's sighs. 

The night that follows the morning clear, 
A rainbow bridging our darkened skies, 
Are the round of our lives from year to 
year. 

— Alexander Lamont. 



TRUEST FRIENDS MUST PART. 

IHE truest friends must part, they say, 



If The fondest hearts must sever, 
But friendship's bonds may last for aye, 
And mem'ry live forever. 



And you will go, and I shall miss 
Each word, each look, each smile. 

Each vanish'd pressure of your kiss, 
And long for you the while. 



298 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL. 



Each thing that we have seen and lov'd, 
Each flow'r, each bird, each tree, 

Each place where we've together rov'd 
Will hold a charm for me. 



Then fare you well — this parting's pain 
To those whom Fate must sever, 

I only say good-bye again — 
And trust 'tis not forever! 



KEEP A STIFF UPPER LIP. 



IHE summer winds is sniffin' round the 
bloomin' locus' trees, 
And the clover in the pastur' is a big day 

for the bees, 
And they been a-swiggin' honey, above- 
board and on the sly, 
rill they stutter in their buzzin' and stag- 
ger as they fly. 

They's been a heap o' rain, but the sun's 

out to-day, 
And the clouds of the wet spell is all cleared 

away. 
And the woods is all the greener, and the 

grass is greener still; 
It may rain again to-morrow, but I don't 

think it will. 

Some say the crops is ruined, and the 

corn's drownded out. 
And propha-sy the wheat will be a failure, 

without doubt; 
But the kind Providence that has never 

failed as yet. 
Will be on hand onc't more at the 'leventh 

hour, I bet! 

Does the medder-lark complain, as he 

swims high and dry, 
Through the waves of the wind and the 

blue of the sky? 



Does the quail set up and whistle in a dis- 
appointed way, 

Er hang his head in silence and sorrow all 
the day? 

Is the chipmuck's health a failure? Does 
he walk or does he run? 

Don't the buzzards ooze around up there, 
just like they've alius done? 

Is there anything the matter with the roost- 
er's lungs or voice? 

Ort a mortal be complainin' when dumb 
animals rejoice? 

Then let us, one and all, be contented with 
our lot: 

The June is here this morning and the sun 
is shining hot. 

Oh, let us fill our hearts with the glory of 
the day, 

And banish ev'ry doubt and care and sor- 
row far away ! 

Whatever be our station, with Providence 
for guide. 

Such fine circumstances ort to make us sat- 
isfied; 

For the world is full of roses, and the roses 
full of dew. 

And the dew is full of heavenly love that 
drips for me and you. 

— James Whitcomh Riley. 



WAITING FOR THE COMING MILLIONS. 



flM CROKER lived far in the woods, a 
solitary place. 
Where the bushes grew, like whiskers, on 
his unrazored face; 



And the black bear was his brother and the 
catamount his chum, 

And Jim he lived and waited for the mill- 
ions yet to come. 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL. 



299 



Jim Croker made a clearing and he sowed 
it down to wheat, 

And he filled his lawn with cabbage and he 
planted it with beet, 

And it blossomed with potatoes, and with 
peach and pear and plum, 

And Jim he lived and waited for the mil- 
lions yet to come. 



axe 



and 



Then Jim he took his ancient 

cleared a forest street, 
While he lived on bear and succotash and 

young oppossum meat, 
And his rhythmic axe strokes sounded and 

the woods no more were dumb. 
While he cleared a crooked highway for the 

millions yet to come. 

Then they came like aimless stragglers, 

they came from far and near, 
A little log house settlement grew round 

the pioneer; 
And the sound of saw and broadaxe 

made a glad industrial hum. 
Jim said, "The coming millions, they have 

just begun to come." 



And a little crooked railway wound round 

mountain, hill, and lake, 
Crawling toward the forest village like an 

undulating snake; 
And one morn the locomotive pufifed into 

the wilderness. 
And Jim said, "The coming millions, they 

are coming by express." 

And the vilbge grew and prospered, but 
Jim Croker's hair was grayer; 

When they got a city charter, and old Jim 
was chosen Mayor; 

But Jim declined the honor, and moved 
his household goods 

Far away into the forest, to the old pri- 
meval woods. 

Far and far into the forest moved the griz- 
zled pioneer, 

There he reared his hut and murmured, "I 
will build a city here." 

And he hears the woodfox barking, and 
he hears the partridge drum. 

And the old man sits and listens for the 
millions yet to come. 

— ^. W. Foss. 



HE FOUND THE MODEL CHURCH. 




)ELL, wife, Pve found the model 
church! I worshiped there today; 
It made me think of good old times, be- 
fore my hairs were gray. 
The meetin' house was finer built than they 

were years ago; 
But then I found, when I went in, it wasn't 
built for show. 

The sexton didn't seat me 'way back by the 

door ; 
He knew that I was old and deaf, as well as 

old and poor. 
He must have been a Christian, for he led 

me boldly through 



The long aisle of that pleasant church to 
find a pleasant pew. 

I wish you'd heard the singin' — it had the 

old-time ring — 
The preacher said with trumpet-voice, "Let 

all the people sing;" 
The tune was "Coronation," and the music 

upwards rolled 
Till I thought I heard the angels striking 

all their harps of gold. 



My deafness seemed to melt away, my 
spirit caught the fire, 



3O0 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL. 



I joined my feeble, trembling voice with 
that melodious choir 

And sang, as in my youthful days, "Let an- 
gels prostrate fall, 

Bring forth the royal diadem and crown 
him Lord of all." 

I tell you, wife, it did me good to sing that 
hymn once more, 

I felt like some wrecked mariner who gets 
a glimpse of shore; 

I almost want to lay aside this weather- 
beaten form 

And anchor in the blessed port forever 
from the storm. 

The preachin'! well, I can't iust tell all that 

the preacher said; 
I know it wasn't written, I know it wasn't 

read ; 
He hadn't time to read, for the lightnin' of 

his eye 
Went passing 'long from pew to pew, nor 

passed a sinner by. 

The sermon wasn't flowery, 'twas simple 

Gospel truth, 
It fitted poor old men like me, it fitted 

hopeful youth. 
'Twas full of consolation for weary hearts 

that bleed, 
'Twas full of invitations to Christ — and not 

to creed. 

A HANDFUL 

ERE is a problem, a wonder for all 
to see: 

Look at this marvelous thing I hold in 
my hand! 
This is a magic surprising, a mystery, 
Strange as a miracle, harder to under- 
stand. 

"What is it? only a handful of earth; to your 
touch 



The preacher made sin hideous in Gentiles 

and in Jews; 
He shot the golden sentences straight at 

the finest pews. 
And, though I can't see very well, I saw the 

falling tear 
That told me hell was some way oflf, and 

heaven very near. 

How swift the golden moments fled within 

that holy place! 
How brightly beamed the light of heaven 

from every happy face ! 
Again I longed for that sweet time when 

friend shall meet with friend. 
When congregations ne'er break up and 

Sabbaths have no end. 

I hope to meet that minister, the congrega- 
tion, too, 

In the dear home beyond the skies, that 
shines from heaven's blue, 

I doubt not I'll remember, beyond life's 
evening gray. 

The face of God's dear servant who 
preached His Word to-day. 

Dear wife, the fight will soon be fought, 

the victory be won. 
The shining goal is just ahead, the race is 

nearly run. 
O'er the river we are nearin', they are 

thronging to the shore. 
To shout our safe arrival where the weary 

weep no more. 

OF EARTH. 

A dry rough powder you trample be- 
neath your feet; 
Dark and lifeless; but think for a moment 
how much 

It hides and holds that is beautiful, bit- 
ter or sweet. 



Think of the glory of color! The red of 
the rose. 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL. 



301 



Green of the myriad leaves and the fields 
of grass; 
Yellow, as bright as the sun, where the daf- 
fodil blows, 

Purple where violets nod as the breezes 
pass. 

Think of the manifold power of the oak 
and the vine; 
Nut and fruit and cluster; and ears of 
corn; 
Of the anchored water-lily, a thing divine! 
Unfolding its dazzling snow to the kiss 
of morn. 

Strange that this lifeless thing gives vine, 
flower, tree, 
Color and shape and character, fra- 
grance, too; 

That the timber which builds the house, 
the ship for the sea. 



Out of this powder its strength and its 
toughness drew. 

That the cocoa among the palms should 
suck its milk 
From this dry dust, while dates from the 
self-same soil 
Summer their sweet, rich fruits; that our 
shining silk 
The mulberry-leaves should yield to the 
worm's slow toil. 

Who shall compass or fathom God's 
thought profound? 
We can but praise, for we may not un- 
derstand; 
But there's no more beautiful riddle, the 
whole world round, 
Than is hid in this heap of dust I hold in 
rny hand. 

— Celia Thaxter. 



BACK WHERE THEY USED TO BE. 



lAP'S got his patent right, and rich 
\g^ as all creation; 
But where's the peace and comfort that 
we all had before? 
Let's go a-visitin' back to Griggsby Sta- 
tion — 
Back where we used to be so happy and 
so pore! 

The likes of us a livin' here! It's just a 
mortal pity 
To see us in this great, big house, with 
cyarpets on the stairs, 
And the pump right in the kitchen; and 
the city! city! city! — 
And nothing but the city all around us 
everywheres! 
Climb clean above the roof and look from 
the steeple, 
And never see a robin, nor a beech or 
elium tree! 



And right here, in earshot of at le^st a 
thousan' people. 
And none that neighbors with us or we 
want to go and see! 
Let's go a'visitin' back to Griggsby Sta- 
tion — 
Back where the latch-string's a-hangin' 
from the door 
And every neighbor 'round the place is 
dear as a relation — 
Back where we used to be so happy and 
so pore! 

I want to see the Wiggenses— the whole 
kit and bilHn', 
A-drivin' up from Shallow Ford, to stay 
the Sunday through, 
And I want to see 'em hitchen' at their son- 
in-law's and pilin' 
Out there at Lizy Ellen's like they used 
to do! 



302 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL. 



I want to see the piece-quilts that Jones 
girl is makin', 
And I want to pester Laury 'bout their 
freckled hired hand, 
And joke about the widower she come 
purt' nigh a-takin', 
Till her pap got his pension 'lowed in 
time to save his land. 

Let's go a-visitin' back to Griggsby Sta- 
tion — 
Back where's nothin' aggervatin' any 
more, 
She's away safe in the wood around the old 
location — 
Back where we used to be so happy and 



so pore 



I want to see Merindy and help her with 
her sewin', 
And hear her talk so lovin' of her man 
that's dead and gone. 



And stand up with Emanuel, to show me 
how's he's growin', 
And smile as I have saw her 'fore she 
put her mournin' on. 

And I want to see the Samples, on the old 
lower Eighty, 
Where John, our oldest boy, he was took 
and buried — for 
His own sake and Katy's — and I want to 
cry with Katy, 
As she reads all his letters over writ 
from the war. 

What's in all this grand life and high sit- 
uation. 
And nary pink nor hollyhawk bloomin' 
at the door? 
Let's go a-visitin' back to Griggsby Sta- 
tion — 
Back where we used to be so happy and 
so pore. 



WHO SHALL RIDE THE DAPPLE MARE?" 



ii 



NCE on a time," as ancient tales 
declare, 

There lived a farmer in a quiet dell 
In Massachusetts, but exactly where, 

Or when, is really more than I can tell — 
Except that, quite above the public bounty, 
He lived within his means, and Bristol 
county. 

By patient labor and unceasing care, 
He earned, and so enjoyed, his daily 
bread; 
Contented always with his frugal fare. 

Ambition to be rich ne'er vexed his head ; 
And thus unknown to envy, want, or 

wealth. 
He flourished long in comfort, peace and 
health. 

The gentle partner of his humble lot, 
The joy and jewel of his wedded life, 



Discharged the duties of his peaceful cot 

Like a true woman and a faithful wife; 
Her mind improved by thought and useful 

reading, 
Kind words and gentle manners showed 
her breeding. 

Grown old at last, the farmer called his son, 
The youngest, (and the favorite, I sup- 
pose,) 
And said — "I long have thought, my dar- 
ling John, 
'Tis time to bring my labors to a close; 
So now to toil I mean to bid adieu. 
And deed, my son, the homestead farm to 
you." 

The boy embraced the boon with vast de- 
light, 
And promised, while their precious lives 
remained, 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL. 



303 



He'd till and tend the farm from morn till 
night, 
And see his parents handsomely main- 
tained; 

God help him, he would never fail to love, 
nor 

Do aught to grieve his generous old gov- 
'nor! 

The farmer said — "Well, let us now pro- 
ceed, 
(You know there's always danger in de- 
lays,) 

And get 'Squire Robinson to write the 
deed; 
Come — where's my staff? we'll soon be 
on the way." 

But John replied with tender, filial care, 

"You're old and weak — I'll catch the Dap- 
ple Mare." 

The mare was saddled, and the old man 

got on, 
The boy on foot trudged cheerfully 

along, 
The while, to cheer his sire, the duteous son 
Beguiled the weary way with talk and 

song. 
Arrived at length, they found the 'Squire 

at home. 
And quickly told him wherefore they had 

come. 

The deed was writ in proper form of law. 
With many a "foresaid," "therefore," 
"and the same," 
And made throughout without mistake or 
flaw, 
To show that John had now a legal claim 
To all his father's land — conveyed, given, 

sold. 
Quit-claimed, et cetera — to have and hold. 

Their business done, they left the lawyer's 
door. 
Happier, perhaps, than when they en- 
tered there; 



And started off as they had done before— 
The son on foot, the father on the mare. 
But ere the twain a single mile had gone 
A brilliant thought occurred to Master 
John. 

Alas for truth! — alas for filial duty! 

Alas ! that Satan in the shape of pride, 
(His most bewitching form save that of 

beauty,) 
Whispered the lad: "My boy, you ought 

to ride!" 
"Get off!" exclaimed the jounker, " 'tisn't 

fair 
That you should always ride the Dapple 

Mare." 

The son was lusty, and the sire was old. 
And so, with many an oath and many a 
frown, 
The hapless farmer did as he was told, — 
The man got off the steed, the boy got 
on. 
And rode away as fast as she could trot, 
And left his sire to trudge it home on foot! 

That night, while seated round the kitchen 
fire, 
The household sat, cheerful as if no word 
Or deed provoked the injured father's ire, 
Or aught to make him sad had e'er oc- 
curred — 
Thus spoke he to his son: "We quite 

forgot, 
I think, t' include the little turnip lot! 

"I'm very sure, my son, it wouldn't hurt it," 

Calmly observed the meditative sire, 
"To take the deed, my lad, and just insert 
it." 
Here the old man inserts it — in the fire! 
Then cries aloud with most triumphant air: 
"Who now, my son, shall ride the Dapple 
Mare!" 

• — J. G. Saxe. 



304 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL. 



THE FOOLISH MAIDEN'S NEW BONNET. 



FOOLISH little maiden bought a 
|(3^ foolish little bonnet, 
With a ribbon, and a feather, and a bit of 

lace upon it; 
And, that the other maidens of the little 

town might know it. 
She thought she'd go to meeting the next 

Sunday just to show it. 

Bui: though the little bonnet was scarce 

larger than a dime. 
The getting of it settled proved to be a 

work of time, 
So when 'twas fairly tied, and the bells had 

stopped their ringing, 
And when she came to meeting, sure 

enough, the folks were singing. 

So this foolish little maiden stood and 

waited at the door; 
And she shook her ruffles out behind and 

smoothed them down before. 
"Hallelujah! Hallelujah!" sang the choir 

above her head. 
"Hardly knew you! Hardly knew you!" 

were the words she thought they said. 



This made the little maiden feel so very, 

very cross. 
That she gave her little mouth a twist, 

her little head a toss; 
For she thought the very hymn they sang 

was all about her bonnet, 
With the ribbon, and the feather, and the 

bit of lace upon it. 

And she would not wait to listen to the 
sermon or the prayer, 

But pattered down the silent street, and 
hurried down the stair, 

Till she reached her little bureau, and in a 
band-box on it. 

Had hidden, safe from critic's eye, her fool- 
ish little bonnet. 

Which proves, my little maidens, that each 

of you will find 
In every Sabbath service but an echo of 

your mind; 
And the silly little head, that's filled with 

silly little airs, 
Will never get a blessing from sermon or 

from prayers. 



"ROUGH BEN." 

(An incident of the Northwest Rebellion.) 



^^^ 



^TARVED to death," sounds kind o' 
%^ hard, eh? 

But it's true's I'm holdin' this 'ere knife, 
An' thet woman dumped in the grave 
to-day 
Jes' starved to death, sir, 'pon me life. 

Ye wonder how in a land o' plenty. 
Where even Injuns wallop around 

With their belts a-loosened of overfeedin', 
Fur a poor white critter grub ain't found. 

Well, y' see ther's starvin' deeper'n eatin', 
An' thet ther' woman we slid to-day 



Ain't died o' want of bannock and bacon; 
No! but a durned sight crueller way. 

S'posin' ye sit on the fence rail, mister, 

Fur I ain't agoin' to plow nor sow. 
See them there oxen — "G'long, ye beg- 
gars!"— 
(The flies is eatin' their heads ofT) 
"Whoa!" 

Wal', some three years ago'r — no matter — 
When this yer' place w'ant much to see.. 

Me and Bill Martin and Bo'lin's brother 
Cum an' squatted, jest whar we be. 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL. 



305 



An' by'm'bye other folks, hearin' 
Land in the great Nor'west had riz, 

Cum, pourin' in top o' one another, 
Each squatter claimin' a patch as his. 

An' among the lot thet came tom-foolin' 
Was an English chap as had no right 

To 'speriment with a Nor'west winter; 
The fool bro't his sister an' took up a site. 

Wal', he pitched his tent ('twas a wagon 
cover). 
An' thar' they lived all summer thro', 
An' managed some way by winter cummin' 
To knock up a shack. — jest them thar' 
two. 

They didn't mix with the folk'ses gen'l. 
But kep' in like, an' read fine books; 

An' after a spell the lad got ailin' 

With worrit an' frettin' an' pinched like 
looks. 

An' soon he stopped goin' out to water 
The cattle (two head o' steer he'd 
brought). 

I see'd the gal a-tryin' to lead 'em 
An' I up and offers to guide the lot. 

She wasn't proud with me, sir, never, 
Her little hand 'ud lay in my own 
Like a grasshopper's wing on an acre of 
fallow; 
An' her eyes? my God! they'd melt a 
stone. 

Wal', he pinched, an' coughed, an' nigher'n 
nigher, 
What she, cryin', called "Death's Angel," 
cum. 
An' olT he went like a snufT o' candle, 
A-takin' a homestead beyond the sun. 

We plowed him in — when the sun was 
settin' — 

On'y us na'bours around, you see; 
An' we left him covered, an' her a-cryin' 

Sumthin' about "Come back to me !" 



An' the cattle died — I'm blest if they didn't. 

Contrary like — an' the claim he owned. 

An' plow'd an' sow'd 'th his two gent's 

handles, 

Want worth a durn when the Injuns 

cum. 

I found her sittin' and kinder cryin' 

By the hill as whar we had rolled him in; 

Lookin' so peaked an' white an' ghost-like 
I felt like wishin" she wus with him 

Wal'! the cattle wus dead, the ground 
w'ant ready. 
An' the Injuns t'reat'nin' every day. 
To hang our wigs to the belts as held 'em 
Chock full o' rot-got, spite o' Hudson 
Bay. 

All at onc't I see'd her trouble, 

'Twas want of wimniin' to cuddle her in, 
An' the nearest petticoat, too, by thunder! 

Thirty miles off — an' she lived by sin. 

An' sooner'n that, I'd — wal', I'd give her 
The best I owned, sir, my land an' life; 

It was shelter, you see, an' Injuns comin' 
Jest frightened her into a-bein' my wife. 

Oh! ye may star' and handle yer shooter. 
But, afore high God, she was dear to me; 

I toted her back to my old log cabin. 
An' worship'd the groun' she walked — 
an' she? 

Wal', she tried to smile an' call me "Benny," 
When all my life I'd been called "Rough 
Ben," 
An' I carted her roun' like you'd a lucky- 
penny; 
An' th' Injuns? oh, Gov'ment settled 
them. 

Ye mind the troops cum marchin' up here. 
An' the garrison we wus all shut in, 

An' among the red-coats thet came paradin' 
Was as handsom' a chap as ever I seen. 



3o6 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL. 



An' while we popped at the redskins' top- 
knots, 

Them soldier fellows as saved our lives 
Cum marchin' into the wood pile barracks, 

An' what did I see with my own two eyes 

But my little girl as I took under cover 
Grow red an' white and fall like a star. 

When out from the file that peart-faced 
stranger 
Shot like an arrow to whar' she war! 

Uncle, sez I, or cousin, mebbe, 

As went to school whar' she got them 
books? 
But when he kissed my gal I "tumbled," 
And shook like the leaves that shadder 
the brooks. 

An' then an' thar' I larned her story 

(Too late! for now she was straight my 
wife), 

For the parson sed 'twas for ever an' ever. 
An' her nor me couldn't alter our life. 

Wal', that evenin' I left them airly 

(Fm a-goin' to lead a duck, I sed), 
But I know'd that wench's heart was break- 
in'. 
An' I gave her a chance to skip 'th the 
lad. 

But she didn't — I found her thar', 
Mendin' an' bakin' the usual way; 

But a look in her eyes ther' was like unto 
A threat'nin' rain on a summer day. 

He'd gone an' left her to me as took her 
Jest fur to give her shelter and care 



(I know'd 'f the brother'd lived, she'd never 
A-looked at me, mor'n them oxen thar). 

Somehow she kinder wilted, an' never 
Ask'd no question, but sort o' still; 

With thet look o' hunger a-eatin' her heart 
out — 
Thet's the kind o' starvin' is sure to kill. 

I fetch'd the best of eatin' an' drinkin' 
As wus to be bo't in them times out here ; 

But the days went slidin' into winter, 

An' mister, with snow-fly an empty cheer. 

She slid away from me sort o' quiet, 

W' never a moan, but "Benny, good- 
night!" 

An' me an' the neighbors, as alius loved her, 
Tuck'd her beside him, jest out o' sight. 

An' the soldier-lover thet left her starvi-n', 

Fd like to put a ball through his hide. 
What? honor! another's!' You loved 
her!!! 
My God! You're the chap for who she 
died. 

Gimme your hand, and here above her, 
Altho' she wus mine by a parson's swar', 

I hain't no right to that gal's ashes, — 
She died for you, an' you left her thar'. 

Me and me oxen's movin' westward, 
You and the gal's best left alone; 
She'll rest contenteder; good-bye, Fm 
goin'; 
The claim is your'n, go claim your own, 
— Kate B. Simpson. 



SUGAR-MAKING. 



HEN nights are clear, and frosts 

ffV f are keen. 

And the day is warm in the sun, 
The snow wreathes vanish like a breath, 

The sap begins to run. 
And through the bush with shout and song, 



The merry toilers go; 
For the boys are out for work and fun 
When the sap begins to flow. 

When trees are tapped and the pails are 
hung 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL. 



307 



For the nectar of the Spring, 
Then over the blazing maple-logs 

The giant kettles swing; 
And the dipper that stirs the bubbling sap 

From lip to lip doth go; 
For there's nothing so sweet as the syrup 
that's made 

When the sap begins to flow. 

But it's best at dusk by the light of the 
flame, 
In the bonfire's smoky breath, 
Where shadows weird by the caldron 
crouch 
Like the witches in "Macbeth;" 



Shadows that gibber and clutch and writhe, 

With laughter echoing full; 
For it's work to carry the amber juice. 

But it's fun at the taffy-pull. 

When night is clear, and the frost is keen, 

And the sap has ceased to run. 
When the sugar is caking clear and crisp. 

The work of the day is done. 
And through the bush with shout and song 

The weary toilers go; 
But they'll play it again on the morrow 
morn 

When the sap begins to flow. 

— R. S. G, Anderson. 



THE SECOND CONCESSION OF DEER. 



fOHN TOMPKINS lived in a house of 
logs, 
On the second concession of Deer; 
The front was logs, all straight and sound, 
The gable was logs, all tight and round. 
The roof was logs, so firmly bound. 
And the floor was logs, all down to the 
ground ; 
The warmest house in Deer. 

And John, to my mind, was a log himself. 

On the second concession of Deer; 
None of your birch, with bark of buff, 
Nor basswood, weak and watery stuff. 
But he was hickory, true and tough, 
And only his outside bark was rough; 

The grandest old man in Deer! 

But John had lived too long, it seemed. 
On the second concession of Deer! 

For his daughters took up the governing 
rein, 

With a fine brick house on the old domain, 

All paper, and painted with satinwood stain, 
The finest house in Deer! 

Poor John, it was sad to see him now. 
On the second concession of Deer! 



When he came in from his weaiy work, 
To strip off his shoes like a heathen Turk, 
Or out of the company's way to lurk, 
And ply in the shanty his knife and fork — 
The times were turned in Deer! 

But John was hickory to the last, 

On the second concession of Deer! 
And out on the river-end of his lot, 
He laid up the logs in a cosy spot, 
And self and wife took up with a cot, 
And the great brick house might swim or 
not — 
He was done with the pride of Deer! 

But the great house could not go at ah, 

On the second concession of Deer; 
'Twas mother no more, to wash or bake, 
Nor father the gallant steeds to take — 
From the kitchen no more came pie or 

cake — 
And even their butter they'd first to 
make ! — 
There were lessons to learn in Deer! 

And the lesson they learned a year or more, 

On the second concession of Deer! 
Then the girls got back the brave old pair, 



?o8 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL. 



And gave the mother her easy chair — 
She told them how, and they did their 
share — 



And John the honors once more did wear 
On his own domain in Deer! 

— William Wye Smith. 



CA' ME "SCOTT Y!" 



)^^ ES, ca' me ''Scotty" if ye will, 
(f For sic' a name can mean nae ill ; 
O' a' nick-names just tak' yer fill — 
Fm quite content wi' "Scotty!" 

To be a Scot is nae disgrace, 
Maist folk can trust a g'uid Scotch face! 
He's never lang oot o' a place, — 
The honest, faithful, "Scotty!" 

A Scotchman has the knack to plod, 
Through thick an' thin he'll bear his load; 
His trust is aye in richt an' God, — 
The perseverin' "Scotty!" 

He's 'tentive baith to kirk an' mart. 
To freens he's true an' hard to part; 
In life's great race he needs nae start, — 
"Fll win or dee," says "Scotty!" 



An' if he meets wi' ane or two, 
O' Scotland's sons when far awa', 
They'll gree like brithers ane an' a', 
A "clannish" man is "Scotty!" 

Though aft he travels far frae hame, 
He's aye a Scotchman a' the same. 
An' prood to crack o' Scotlan's fame, — 
A loyal son is "Scotty!" 

Should Scotlan's ever need his help. 
He'll gie her enemies a skelp, 
An' mak' them rin like frichted whelp. 
And gie respect to "Scotty!" 

Then, ca' me "Scotty" if ye will, 
Nick-name like that can work nae ill; 
Fll shake yer han' wi' richt guid-will, 
Whane'er ye ca' me "Scotty!" 

— John Imrie. 



THE HOMES OF ENGLAND. 



I HE stately Homes of England, 
|<^ How beautiful they stand, 
Amidst their tall ancestral trees. 

O'er all the pleasant land! 
The deer across their greensward bound 

Through shade and sunny gleam. 
And the swan glides past them with the 
sound 
Of some rejoicing stream. 

The Merry Homes of England! 

Around their hearths by night, 
What gladsome looks of household love 

Meet in the ruddy light! 
There woman's voice flows forth in song, 

Or childish tale is told; 
Or lips move tunefully along 

Some glorious page of old. 



The blessed Homes of England! 

How softly on their bowers 
Is laid the holy quietness 

That breathes from Sabbath hours! 
Solemn, yet sweet, the church-bell's chime 

Floats through the woods at morn; 
All other sounds, in that still time. 

Of breeze and leaf are born. 

The cottage Homes of England! 

By thousands on her plains, 
They are smiling o'er her silvery brooks. 

And round the hamlet-fanes. 
Through glowing orchards forth they 
peep 

Each from its nook of leaves ; 
And fearless there the lowly sleep. 

As the bird beneath their eaves. 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL. 



309 



The free, fair Homes of England! 

Long, long in hut and hall, 
May hearts of native proof be reared 

To euard each hallowed wall! 



And green forever be the groves, 
And bright the flowery sod, 

Where first the child's glad spirit loves 
Its country and its God. 

— Felicia D. Hemans. 



TO MARY IN HEAVEN. 



(Robert Burns, the great but ill-fated 
Scottish poet, was born near Ayr, in 1759. 
He and Mary were engaged to be married, 
but before the time fixed for the marriage 
ceremony arrived she died. He subse- 
quently married, but his wedded life failed 
to bring joy to his heart, and he sought to 
drown his disappointment and unhappiness 
in the intoxicating bowl. The poetic merit 
of this piece is undisputed. It should be 
read in the most plaintive manner.) 

IHOU lingering star, with lessening ray, 
That lov'st to greet the early morn, 
Again thou usher'st in the day 

My Mary from my soul was torn. 
O, Mary! dear, departed shade! 

Where is thy place of blissful rest? 
Seest thou thy lover lowly laid? 

Hear'st thou the groans that rend his 
breast? 

That sacred hour can I forget. 
Can I forget the hallow'd grove. 

Where by the winding Ayr we met. 
To live one day of parting love! 



Eternity will not efiface 

Those records dear of transport's past; 
Thy image at our last embrace! 

Ah! little thought we 'twas our last! 

Ayr, gurgling, kissed his pebbled shore, 

O'erhung with wild woods' thick'ning 
green ; 
The fragrant birch, and hawthorn hoar, 

Twin'd amorous round the raptur'd 
scene, — 
The flowers sprang wanton to be prest, 

The birds sang love on every spray, 
Till too, too soon, the glowing west 

Proclaimed the speed of winged day. 

Still o'er these scenes my mem'ry wakes. 

And fondly broods with miser care! 
Time but the impression deeper makes. 

As streams their channels deeper wear. 
My Mary! dear, departed shade! 

Where is thy place of blissful rest? 
Seest thou thy lover lowly laid? 

Hear'st thou the groans that rend his 
breast? 

— Robert Bums. 



SOMEBODY'S DARLING. 



NTO a ward of the whitewashed halls, 
Where the dead and dying lay. 
Wounded by bayonets, shells, and balls. 
Somebody's Darling was borne one 
day — 
Somebody's Darling, so young and 
brave, 
Wearing yet on his pale, sweet face, 
Soon to be hid by the dust of the grave, 



so 



The lingering light of his boyhood's 
grace. 

Matted and damp are the curls of gold, 
Kissing the snow of the fair young brow, 

Pale are the lips of delicate mould — 
Somebody's Darling is dying now. 

Back from his beautiful, blue-veined brow 
Brush all the wandering waves of gold; 



310 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL. 



Cross his hands on his bosom now — 
Somebody's Darling is still and cold. 

Kiss him once for Somebody's sake; 

Murmur a prayer both soft and low; 
One bright curl from its fair mates take — 

They were Somebody's pride, you know; 
Somebody's hand hath rested there — 

Was it a mother's, soft and white? 
And have the lips of a sister fair 

Been baptized in their waves of light? 

God knows best ! Pie was Somebody's love ; 
Somebody's heart enshrined him there; 
Somebody wafted his name above, 



Night and morn, on the wings of prayer. 
Somebody wept when he marched away, 

Looking so handsome, brave and grand: 
Somebody's kiss on his forehead lay, 

Somebody clung to his parting hand. 

Somebody's waiting and watching for 
him — 

Yearning to hold him again to her heart ; 
And there he lies with his blue eyes dim, 

And the smiling child-like lips apart. 
Tenderly bury the fair young dead. 

Pausing to drop on his grave a tear, 
Carve on the wooden slab at his head, 

"Somebody's Darhng slumbers here." 
— Anonymous. 



HAMLET'S SOLILOQUY ON DEATH. 



(This piece is admitted to be one of the 
most difficult to read in the English lan- 
guage, requiring nice discrimination and 
great powers of elocution. It is one of 
Shakespeare's most admirable productions. 
The reader should perfectly understand and 
thoroughly feel the sentiments which it 
contains, commencing deliberately on a 
middle key; indignation should be ex- 
pressed as the prince enumerates partic- 
ulars; the voice should gradually rise in the 
second paragraph; the conclusion requires 
quantity and rather slow time.) 

lO be, or not to be ;that is the question ! 
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to 
suffer 
The stings and arrows of outrageous for- 
tune. 
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles. 
And by opposing, end them. To die? to 

sleep; 
No more; and, by a sleep to say we end 
The heartache, and the thousand natural 

shocks 
That flesh is heir to; 'tis a consummation 



Devoutly to be wish'd! To die; to sleep; 
To sleep? perchance to dream; aye, there's 

the rub ; 
For in that sleep of death, what dreams 

may come 
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, 
Must give us pause! 

There's the respect 

That makes calamity of so long life; 

For who would bear the whips and scorns 

of time, 
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's 

contumely. 
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay, 
The insolence of office, and the spurns 
That patient merit of the unworthy takes, 
When he himself might his quietus make 
With a bare bodkin? 

Who would fardels bear, 
To groan and sweat under a weary life; 
But that the dread of something after death. 
The undiscover'd country, from whose 

bourne 
No traveler returns, puzzles the will; 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL. 



311 



And makes us rather bear those ills we 

have, 
Than fly to others that we know not of. 
Thus conscience does make cowards of us 

all; 
And thus the native hue of resolution 



Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of 

thought; 
And enterprises of great pith and moment, 
With this regard, their currents turn away, 
And lose the name of action. 

— IVni. Shakespeare. 



DEATH OF PAUL DOMBEY. 



tITTLE Dombey had never risen 
from his little bed. He lay there, 
listening to the noises in the street, quite 
tranquilly; not caring- much how the time 
went, but watching it and watching every- 
thing. 

When the sunbeams struck into his room 
through the rustling blinds, and quivered 
on the opposite wall, like golden water, he 
knew that evening was coming on, and that 
the sky was red and beautiful. As the re- 
flection died away, and gloom went creep- 
ing up the wall, he watched it deepen, deep- 
en, deepen into night. Then he thought 
how the long unseen streets were dotted 
with lamps, and how the peaceful stars were 
shining overhead. His fancy had a strange 
tendency to wander to the river, which he 
knew was flowing through the great city; 
and now he thought how black it was, and 
how deep it would look reflecting the hosts 
of stars; and, more than all, how steadily it 
rolled away to meet the sea. 
"Floy! What is that?" 
"Where, dearest?" 
"There! at the bottom of the bed." 
"There's nothing there, except papa!" 
The figure lifted up its head and rose, 
and coming to the bedside, said : 

"My own boy? Don't you know me?" 
Paul looked it in the face. Before he 
could reach out both his hands to take it 
between them and draw it toward him the 
figure turned away quickly from the little 
bed, and went out at the door. 

The next time he observed the figure sit- 



ting at the bottom of the bed he called to it: 

"Don't be so sorry for me, dear papa. In- 
deed, I am quite happy!" 

His father coming and bending down to 
him, he held him round the neck, and re- 
peated these words to him several times, 
and very earnestly; and he never saw his 
father in his room again at any time, wheth- 
er it were day or night, but he called out, 
"Don't be so sorry for me ! Indeed, I am 
quite happy!" 

How many times the golden water 
danced upon the wall; how many nights 
the dark river rolled toward the sea in spite 
of him, Paul never sought to know. 

One night he had been thinking of his 
mother and her picture in the drawing room 
down stairs. The train of thought sug- 
gested to him to inquire if he had ever 
seen his rnother. For he could not remem- 
ber whether they had told him yes or no; 
the river running very fast and confusing 
his mind, 

"Floy, did I ever see mamma?" 

"No, darling; why?" 

"Did I ever see any kind face like a 
mamma's looking at me when I was a baby, 
Floy?" 

"O yes, dear!" 

"Whose, Floy?" 

"Your old nurse's, often." 

"And where is my old nurse? Show me 
that old nurse, Floy, if you please!" 

"She is not here, darling. She shall come 
to-morrow." 

"Thank you, Floy!" 



312 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL. 



Little Dombey closed his eyes with these 
words and fell asleep. When he awoke the 
sun was high and the broad day was clear 
and warm. Then he awoke — woke body 
and mind — and sat upright in his bed. He 
saw them now about him. There was no 
gray mist before them, as there had been 
sometimes in the night. He knew them 
every one, and called them by their names. 

"And who is this? Is this my old nurse?" 
asked the child, regarding, with a radiant 
smile, a figure coming in. 

Yes, yes. No other stranger would have 
shed those tears at sight of him and called 
him her dear boy, her pretty boy, her own 
poor, blighted child. No other woman 
would have stooped down by his bed and 
taken up his wasted hand, and put it to her 
lips and breast, as one who had some right 
to fondle it. No other woman would have 
so forgotten everybody there but him and 
Floy, and been so full of tenderness and 
pity. 

"Floy! this is a kind, good face! I am 
glad to see it again. Don't go away, old 
nurse. Stay here! Good-bye!" 

"Good-bye, my child!" cried Mrs. Pip- 
chin, hurrying to his bed's head. "Not 
good-bye." 

"Ah, yes! Good-bye! Where is papa?" 

His father's breath was on his cheek be- 
fore the words had parted from his lips. 



The feeble hand waved in the air, as if it 
cried, "Good-bye!" again. 

"Now lay me down; and, Floy, come 
close to me and let me see you." 

Sistej and brother wound their arms 
around each other, and the golden light 
came streaming in and fell upon them, 
locked together. 

"How fast the river runs, between its 
green banks and the rushes, Floy! But it's 
very near the sea now. I hear the waves! 
They always said so!" 

Presently he told her that the motion of 
the boat upon the stream was lulling him 
to rest. Now the boat was out at sea. And 
now there was a shore before him. Who 
stood on the bank? 

"Mamma is like you, Floy. I know her 
by the face!" 

The golden ripple on the wall came back 
again, and nothing else stirred in the room. 
The old, old fashion! The fashion that 
came in with our first garments, and will 
last unchanged until our race has run its 
course, and the wide firmament is rolled up 
like a scroll. The old, old fashion — Death! 

O, thank God, all who see it, for that 
older fashion yet, of Immortality! And 
look upon us, angels of young children, 
with regards not quite estranged, when the 
swift river bears us to the ocean! 

— Charles Dickens. 



WIDOW MALONE. 



ID you hear of the Widow Malone, 



IP Ohone! 

Who lived in the town of Athlone, 
Alone! 
O, she melted the hearts 
Of the swains in them parts; 
So lovely the Widow Malone, 

Ohone! 
So lovely the Widow Malone. 

Of lovers she had a full score 
Or more, 



And fortunes they all had galore. 
In store; 
From the minister down 
To the clerk of the Crown, 
All were courting the Widow Malone, 

Ohone! 
All were courting the Widow Malone. 

But so modest was Mistress Malone 

'Twas known! 
That no one could see her alone, 

Ohone! 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL. 



313 



Let them ogle and sigh, 
They could ne'er catch her eye, 

So bashful the Widow Malone, 
Ohone ! 

So bashful the Widow Malone. 

Till one Misther O'Brien, from Clare, 

(How quare! 
It's little for blushing they care 
Down there.) 
Put his arm around her waist, 
Gave her ten kisses at laste, 
"O," says he, "you're my Molly Malone, 

My own!" 
"O," says he, "you're my Molly Malone." 

And the widow they all thought so shy, 
My eye! 



Ne'er thought of a simper or sigh, 
For why? 
But "Lucius," says she, 
"Since you've now made so free, 
You may marry your Mary Malone, 

Ohone! 
You may marry your Mary Malone." 

There's a moral contained in my song, 

Not wrong; 
And one comfort, it's not very long, 
But strong. 
If for widows you die, 
Learn to kiss, not to sigh; 
For they're all like sweet Mistress Malone, 

Ohone! 
O, they're all like sweet Mistress Malone. 
— Charles Lever. 



SAM SMITH'S SOLILOQUY ON MATRIMONY. 



/SIERTAINLY, matrimony is an inven- 
\g/ tion of . Well, no matter who in- 
vented it. I'm going to try it. Where's 
my blue coat with the bright brass buttons? 
The woman has yet to be born who can 
resist that; and my buff vest and necktie, 
too; may I be shot if I don't ofifer them 
both to the Httle Widow Pardiggle this 
very night. "Pardiggle !" Phoebus ! what 
a name for such a rosebud. I'll rechristen 
her by the euphonious name of Smith. 
She'll have me, of course. She wants a 
husband. I want a wife; there's one point 
already in which we perfectly agree. 

What the mischief ails this cravat? It 
must be the cold that makes my hand 
tremble so; there — that'll do; that's quite 
an inspiration. Brummel himself couldn't 
go beyond that. Now for the widow, bless 
her little round face! I'm immensely 
obliged to old Pardiggle for giving her a 
quit-claim. I'll make her as happy as a 
little robin. Do you think I'll bring a tear 
into her lovely blue eyes? Do you think 



I'd sit, after tea, with my back to her, and 
my feet upon the mantel, staring up chim- 
ney for three long hours together? Do you 
think I'd leave her little blessed side to 
dangle around oyster saloons and theatres? 
Do I look like a man to let a woman flatten 
her pretty little nose against the window- 
pane night after night, trying to see me reel 
up street? No! Mr. and Mrs. Adam were 
not more beautiful in the nuptial bower than 
I shall be with the Widow Pardiggle. 

Refused by a widow! Who ever heard 
of such a thing? Well, there's one com- 
fort, nobody '11 believe it. She is not so 
very pretty after all; her eyes are too small, 
and her hands are rough and red-dy; not 
so very ready either, confound the gipsy! 
What amazing pretty shoulders she has! 
Well, who cares? Ten to one she'd have 
set up that wretch of a Pardiggle for my 
model. Who wants to be a Pardiggle 2d? 
I'm glad she didn't have me. I mean, I'm 
glad I didn't have her! 

— Fanny Fern. 



314 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL. 



THE SMACK IN SCHOOL. 



DISTRICT school not far away, 
'Mid Berkshire hills, on winter's day. 
Was humming with its wonted noise 
Of threescore mingled girls and boys. 
Some few upon their tasks intent, 
But more on furtive mischief bent, 
The while the master's downward look 
Was fastened on a copy-book; 
When suddenly, behind his back, 
Rose sharp and clear a rousing smack! 
As 'twere a battery of bliss 
Let off in one tremendous kiss! 
"What's that?" the startled master cries; 
"That, thir," a little imp replies, 
"Wath William Willith, if you pleathe— 
I thaw him kith Thuthanna Peathe!" 
With frown to make a statue thrill. 
The master thundered, "Hither, Will!" 
Like wretch o'ertaken in his track, 
With stolen chattels on his back, 



Will hung his head in fear and shame, 

And to the awful presence came — 

A great, green, bashful simpleton, 

The butt of all good-natured fun. 

With smile suppressed, and birch upraised 

The threatener faltered — "I'm amazed 

That you, my biggest pupil, should 

Be guilty of an act so rude! 

Before the whole set school to boot — 

What evil genius put you to't?" 

"'Twas she herself, sir," sobbed the lad; 

"I did not mean to be so bad; 

But when Susanna shook her curls, 

And whispered I was 'fraid of girls, 

And dursn't kiss a baby's doll, 

I couldn't stand it, sir, at all. 

But up and kissed her on the spot! 

I know — boo-hoo — I ought to not. 

But, somehow from her looks — boo-hoo — 

I thought she kind o' wished me to!" 

— William Pitt Palmer. 



HOW TOM SAWYER GOT HIS FENCE WHITEWASHED. 



(Tom Sawyer, having offended his sole 
guardian, Aunt Polly, is by that sternly 
affectionate dame punished by being set to 
whitewash the fence in front of the garden.) 
OM appeared on the sidewalk with a 
bucket of whitewash and a long-han- 
dled brush. He surveyed the fence and all 
gladness left him and a deep melancholy 
settled down upon his spirit. Thirty yards 
of board fence nine feet high. Life to him 
seemed a hollow, and existence but a bur- 
den. Sighing, he dipped his brush and 
passed it along the topmost plank ; repeated 
the operation; did it again; compared the 
insisfnificant whitewash streak with the far- 
reaching continent of unwhitewashed. fence, 
and sat down on a tree-box discouraged. 

He began to think of the fun he had 
planned for this day, and his sorrows multi- 
plied. Soon the free boys would come 



tripping along on all sorts of delicious ex- 
peditions, and they would make a world of 
fun of him for having to work — the very 
thought of it burnt him like fire. He got 
out his worldly wealth and examined it — 
bits of toys, marbles, and trash; enough to 
buy an exchange of work, maybe, but not 
half enough to buy so much as half an hour 
of pure freedom. So he returned his strait- 
ened means to his pocket, and gave up the 
idea of trying to buy the boys. At this dark 
and hopeless moment an inspiration burst 
upon him. Nothing less than a great, mag- 
nificent inspiration. 

He took up his brush and went tran- 
quilly to work. Ben Rogers hove in sight 
presently — the very boy, of all boys, whose 
ridicule he had been dreading. Ben's gait 
was the hop-skip-and-jump — proof enough 
that his heart was light and his anticipa- 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL. 



315 



tions high. He was eating an apple, and 
giving a long, melodious whoop, at inter- 
vals, followed by a deep-toned ding-dong- 
dong, ding-dong-dong, for he was person- 
ating a steamboat. As he drew near he 
slackened speed, took the middle of the 
street, leaned far over to starboard and 
rounded to ponderously and with laborious 
pomp and circumstances — for he was per- 
sonating the "Big Missouri," and consid- 
ered himself to be drawing nine feet of 
water. He was boat, captain, and engine- 
bells combined, so he had to imagine him- 
self standing on his own hurricane deck 
giving the orders and executing them. 

Tom went on whitewashing — paid no at- 
tention to the steamboat. Ben stared a 
moment and then said: 

"Hi-yi! you're a stump, ain't you?" 

No answer. Tom surveyed his last touch 
with the eye of an artist; then he gave his 
brush another gentle sweep and surveyed 
the result as before. Ben ranged up along- 
side of him. Tom's mouth watered for the 
apple, but he stuck to his work. Ben said: 
"Hello, old chap; you got to work, hey?" 

Tom wheeled suddenly and said: 

"Why, it's you, Ben; I warn't noticing." 

"Say, I'm going in a-swimming, I am. 
Don't you wish you could? But, of course, 
you'd ruther work, wouldn't you. Course 
you would!" 

Tom contemplated the boy a bit and said : 

"What do you call work?" 

"Why, ain't that work?" 

Tom resumed his whitewashing, and an- 
swered carelessly: 

"Well, maybe it is, and maybe it ain't. 
All I know is, it suits Tom Sawyer." 

"Oh, come now, you don't mean to let 
on that you like it?" 

"Like it? Well, I don't see why I ought- 
n't to like it. Does a boy get a chance to 
whitewash a fence every day?" 

That p'ii* the thing in a new light. Ben 



stopped nibbling his apple. Tom swept 
his brush daintily back and forth — stepped 
back to note the effect — added a touch here 
and there, criticised the effect again, Ben 
watching every move, and getting more 
and more interested, more and more ab- 
sorbed. Presently he said: 

"Say, Tom, let me whitewash a little." 

Tom considered, was about to consent, 
but altered his mind. "No, no, I reckon 
it wouldn't hardly do, Ben. You see. Aunt 
Polly's awful particular about this fence; 
right here on the street you know; but if it 
was the back fence I wouldn't mind and she 
wouldn't. Yes, she's awful particular about 
this fence; it's got to be done very careful; 
I reckon there ain't one boy in a thousand, 
maybe two thousand, that can do it in the 
way it's got to be done." 

"No, is that so? Oh, come now, lemme 
just try, only just a little. I'd let you, if it 
was me, Tom." 

"Ben, I'd like to, honest Injin; but Aunt 
Polly — well, Jim wanted to do it, but she 
wouldn't let him. Sid wanted to do it, but 
she wouldn't let Sid. Now, don't you see 
how I'm fixed? If you want to tackle this 
fence, and anything was to happen to it — " 

"Oh, shucks! I'll be just as careful. Now 
lemme try. Say, I'll give you the core of 
my apple." 

"Well, here. No, Ben, now don't; I'm 
afraid " 

"I'll give you all of it!" 

Tom gave up the brush with reluctance 
in his face, but alacrity in his heart. And 
while Ben worked and sweated in the sun, 
the retired artist sat on a barrel in the shade 
close by, dangled his legs, munched his 
apple and planned the slaughter of more 
innocents. There was no lack of material; 
boys happened along every little while; they 
came to jeer, they remained to whitewash. 
By the time Ben was fagged out Tom had 
traded the next chance to Billy Fisher for 



3i6 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL. 



a kite in good repair; and when he played 
out Johnny Miller bought it with a dead 
rat and a string to swing it with; and so 
on, and so on, hour after hour. And when 
the middle of the afternoon came, from 
being a poor, poverty-stricken boy in the 
morning, Tom was literally rolling in 
wealth. He had, besides the things before 
mentioned, twelve marbles, part of a jews- 
harp, a piece of blue bottle-glass to look 
through, a spool cannon, a key that 
wouldn't unlock anything, a fragment of 
chalk, a glass stopper of a decanter, a tin 
soldier, a couple of tadpoles, six firecrack- 
ers, a kitten with only one eye, a brass door- 
knob, a dog collar — but no dog — the han- 



dle of a knife, four pieces of orange peel, 
and a dilapidated old window sash. 

Tom had had a nice, good, idle time all 
the while ; plenty of company, and the fence 
had three coats of whitewash on it! If he 
hadn't run out of whitewash he would have 
bankrupted every boy in the village. 

He said to himself that it was not such 
a hollow world after all. He had discov- 
ered a great deal of human action without 
knowing it, namely, that in order to make 
a man or a boy covet a thing it is only 
necessary to make it difficult to obtain. 
— Extract from "The Adventures of Tom 

Sawyer," by Mark Twain. 



ON THE OTHER TRAIN. 



■■^JIHERE, Simmons, you blockhead! 

f p Why didn't you put that old woman 
aboard her train ? She'll have to wait here 
now until i :05." 

"You didn't tell me." 

"Yes, I did tell you, too. 'Twas only 
your carelessness." 

"She " 

"She! What else could you expect of 
her? Probably she hasn't any wit. Be- 
sides, she isn't bound on a very jolly jour- 
ney. Got a pass up to the poorhouse. I'll 
tell her she'll have to wait, and don't you 
forget her tonight." 

"You've missed your train, ma'am." 

"Never mind." 

"'Tis only three o'clock now; you'll have 
to wait until the night train." 

"Very well, sir, I can wait. One place 
is as good as another to me." 

"Well, they'll tell you when it's time." 

All the afternoon she sat there, so quiet 
it seemed as if she must be asleep; but 
every little while a great tear rolled down 
her cheek, which she would wipe hastily 
away. The station was crowded, and all 



was bustle and hurry until the 9:50 train 
going East. Then every passenger left 
except the old lady. It is very rare indeed 
that anyone takes the night express, and 
almost always after ten o'clock the station 
becomes silent and empty. It was a cold 
night, and the wind howled dismally. The 
lamps became dim and flared, casting weird 
shadows on the wall. By and bye there was 
a smothered sigh from the corner. The 
old lady had risen from her seat, and oh, 
the look of agony on her poor, pinched face I 
"I can't beheve it," she sobbed, "I can't 
believe it. Oh, children, children, how 
often have I held you in my arms and 
kissed you; and now, oh, God! you've 
turned against me. You've sent me to the 
poorhouse. No ! No ! No ! I cannot go 
there. O God, spare me this, and take me 
home." 

The wind rose higher, and swept through 
the crevices, icy cold. It moaned and 
shrieked and sobbed ; but the crouching fig- 
ure in the corner never stirred. The thin 
shawl had dropped from her shoulders un- 
heeded. One by one the lamps went out. 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL. 



317 



and it grew very dark. At twelve o'clock 
someone entered, bearing a bright light 
that seemed to fill the room with its rad- 
iance. He bent tenderly above the form 
of the old woman, touched her lightly, and 
said: "It is train time, ma'am, come!" 

A look of joy came over the wrinkled 
face, and she answered, "I'm ready." 



"Then give me your pass, ma'am." 
She reached him a worn old book, and 
he took it, and read aloud: "Come unto 
me all ye that labor and are heavy-laden, 
and I will give you rest." The light died 
away and darkness fell again. She had 
gone out upon a train that never stops at 
the poorhouse. 



LITTLE BOY BLUE. 



I HE little toy dog is covered with dust. 
But sturdy and staunch he stands ; 
And the little toy soldier is red with rust. 
And his musket molds in his hands. 
Time was, when the little toy dog was new. 

And the soldier was passing fair. 
And that is the time when our Little Boy 
Blue 
Kissed them and put them there. 

"Now, don't you go till I come," he said, 
"And don't you make any noise !" 

So, toddling ofif to his trundle-bed. 
He dreamt of the pretty toys. 



And as he was dreaming, an angel song 
Awakened our Little Boy Blue — 

O, the years are many, the years are long, 
But the little toy friends are true. 

Aye, faithful to Little Boy Blue, they stand, 

Each in the same old place; 
Awaiting the touch of a little handj 

The smile of a little face. 
And they wonder, as waiting these long 
years through 

In the dust of that little chair, 
What has become of our Little Boy Blue 

Since he kissed them and put them there. 
— Eugene Field. 



THE SONG OF THE CAMP. 

An Incident of the Crimean War. 



/p^ IVE us a song!" the soldiers cried. 
\^ The outer trenches guarding, 
When the heated guns of the camps aUied 
Grew weary of bombarding. 

The dark Redan, in silent scofif, 
Lay, grim and threatening, under; 

And the tawny mound of the Malakoff 
No longer belched its thunder. 

There was a pause. A guardsman said, 
"We storm the forts to-morrow; 

Sing while we may, another day 
Will bring enough of sorrow." 

They lay along the battery's side, 
Below the smoking cannon; 



Brave hearts, from Severn and from Clyde, 
And from the banks of Shannon. 

They sang of love, and not of fame; 

Forgot was Britain's glory: 
Each heart recalled a different name, 

But all sang "Annie Laurie." 

Voice after voice caught up the song, 

Until its tender passion 
Rose like an anthem, rich and strong, 

Their battle-eve confession. 

Dear girl, her name he dared not speak, 

But, as the song grew louder, 
Something upon the soldier's cheek 

Washed off the stains of powder. 



3i8 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL. 



Beyond the darkening ocean burned 
The bloody sunset's embers, 

While the Crimean valleys learned 
How English love remembers. 

And once again a fire of hell 
Rained on the Russian quarters, 

With scream of shot, and burst of shell, 
And bellowing of the mortars! 



And Irish Nora's eyes are dim 
For a singer, dumb and gory; 

And English Mary mourns for him 
Who sang of "Annie Laurie." 

Sleep, soldiers! still in honored rest 
Your truth and valor wearing; 

The bravest are the tenderest, 
The loving are the daring. 

— Bayard Taylor. 



IRISH COQUETRY. 



SAYS Patrick to Biddy, ''Good mornin', 
me dear! 
It's a bit av a sacrit I've got for yer ear: 
It's yoursel' that is lukin' so charming the 

day, 
That the heart in me breast is fast slippin' 

away." 
'"Tis you that kin flatther," Miss Biddy 

rephes, 
And throws him a glance from her merry 

blue eyes. 

"Arrah, thin," cries Patrick, " 'tis thinkin' 

av you 
That's makin' me heart-sick, me darlint, 

that's thrue. 
Shure I've waited a long while to tell ye 

this same. 
And Biddy Lalloy will be such a fine 

name!" 
Cries Biddy, "Have done wid yer talkin', 

I pray; 
Shure me heart's not me own for this many 

a day! 



I gave it away to a good-lookin' boy. 
Who thinks there is no one Hke Biddy 

Malloy; 
So don't bother me, Pat; jist be aisy," says 

she. 
"Indade, if ye'll let me, I will that!" says 

he. 
"It's a bit of a flirt that ye are, on the sly; 
I'll not trouble ye more, but I'll bid ye 

good-bye." 

"Arrah, Patrick!" cries Biddy, "an' where 

are ye goin'? 
Shure it isn't the best of good manners 

ye're showin'. 
To lave me so suddint!" — "Och, Biddy, 

says Pat, 
"You have knocked the cock-feathers jist 

out ov me hat." 
"Come back, Pat!" says she. "What fur, 

thin?" says he. 
"Bekase I meant you all the time, sir!" 

says she. 



BABY SLEEPS. 



ET every sound be dead, 
-% Baby sleeps; 

The Emperor softly tread. 

Baby sleeps. 
Let Mozart's music stop, 



Let Phidias' chisel drop, 

Baby sleeps; 
Demosthenes be dumb, 
Our tyrant's hour has come, 

Baby sleeps. 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL. 
SPECIALLY JIM. 



3^9 



WAS miglTty good lookin' when I was 
young, 

Pert and black-eyed and slim, 
With fellers a-courtin' me Sunday nights. 
Specially Jim. 

The likeliest one of them all was he. 
Chipper and handsome and trim. 

But I tossed up my head and made fun of 
the crowd. 
Specially Jim. 

I said I hadn't no opinion of men, 
And I wouldn't take stock in him. 



But they kept on a-coming in spite of my 
talk, 
Specially Jim. 

I go so tired o' havin' them 'round, 

Specially Jim; 
I made up my mind Td settle down 

And took up with him. 

So we was married one Sunday in church, 
'Twas crowded full to the brim; 

'Twas the only way to get rid of 'em all. 
Specially Jim. 



THE ROCK-A-BY LADY. 



I HE Rock-a-by Lady from Hushaby 
street 

Comes stealing; comes creeping; 
The poppies they hang from her head to 
her feet. 
And each hath a dream that is tiny and 
fleet; 
She bringeth her poppies to you, my sweet, 
When she findeth you sleeping! 



There is one little dream of a beautiful 
drum; 
"Rub-a-dub!" it goeth; 
There is one little dream of a big sugar 
plum. 
And, lo ! thick and fast the other dreams 
come 
Of popguns that bang, and tin tops that 
hum, 
And a trumpet that bloweth! 



And dollies peep out of these wee little 
dreams, 
With laughter and singing; 
And boats go a-floating on silvery streams, 
And the stars peek-a-boo with their own 
misty gleams. 
And up, up, and up, where the Mother 
Moon beams, 
The fairies go winging! 



Would you dream all these dreams that 
are tiny and fleet? 
They'll come to you sleeping; 
So shut the two eyes that are weary, my 
sweet, 
For the Rock-a-by Lady from Hushaby 
street. 
With poppies that hang from her head to 
her feet, 
Comes stealing; comes creeping. 

— Eugene Field. 
MERCY. 



I HE quality of mercy is not strained; 

If It droppeth, as the gentle rain from 

heaven 

Upon the place beneath; it is twice blessed; 

It blesseth him that gives, and him that 

takes; 



'Tis mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes 
The throned monarch better than his 

crown ; 
His sceptre shows the force of temporal 

power, 
The attribute to awe and majesty. 



320 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL. 



Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of 
kings. 

But rnercy is above this sceptred sway; 
It is enthroned in the hearts of kings, 
It is an attribute to God himself; 
And earthly power doth ^hen show Hkest 
God's 



When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, 

Jew, 
Though justice be thy plea, consider this — 
That in the course of justice, none of us 
Should see salvation; we do pray for mercy. 
And that same prayer should teach us all 

to render 
The deeds of mercy. 

— Shakespeare, 



THE CHILDREN'S HOUR. 



'm ETWEEN the dark and the daylight, 
[^ When the night is beginning to 
lower. 
Comes a pause in the day's occupations. 
That is known as the children's hour. 

I hear in the chamber above me 

The patter of little feet, 
The sound of a door that is opened, 

And voices soft and sweet. 

From my study I see in the lamplight. 
Descending the broad hall stair. 

Grave Alice and laughing Allegra, 
And Edith with golden hair. 

A whisper and then a silence; 

Yet I know by their merry eyes. 
They are plotting and planning together 

To take me by surprise. 

A sudden rush from the stairway, 
A sudden raid from the hall. 

By three doors left unguarded. 
They enter my castle wall. 



They climb up into my turret. 
O'er the arms and back of my chair; 
If I try to escape, they surround me; 
They seem to be everywhere. 

They almost devour me with kisseSj 
Their arms about me entwine. 

Till I think of the Bishop of Bingen 
In his Mouse-Tower on the Rhine. 

Do you think, O blue-eyed banditti. 
Because you have scaled the wall, 

Such an old mustache as I am 
Is not a match for you all? 

I have you fast in my fortress, 

And will not let you depart. 
But put you into the dungeon 

In the round-tower of my heart. 

And there will I keep you forever, 

Yes, forever and a day, 
Till the walls shall crumble to ruin 

And moulder in dust away. 

— Henry W. Longfellow. 



GRADATIM. 

(For Poet's Day.) 



EAVEN is not reached at a single 
bound ; 

But we build the ladder by which we rise 
From the lowly earth to the vaulted 
skies. 
And we mount to its summit round by 
round. 



I count this thing to be grandly true ; 

That a noble deed is a step toward God; 

Lifting the soul from the common sod 
To a purer air and a broader view. 

We rise by things that are under our 
feet; 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL. 



321 



By what we have mastered of good and 

gam; 
By the pride deposed and the passion 

slain, 
And the vanquished ills that we hourly 

meet. 

We hope, we aspire, we resolve, we trust, 
When the morning calls us to life and 

light; 
But our hearts grow weary, and ere the 
night 
Our lives are trailing the sordid dust. 

We hope, we resolve, we aspire, we pray, 
And we think we mount the air on wings 
Beyond the recall of sensual things, 

While our feet still cling to the heavy clay. 

Wings for the angels, but feet for the 
men, 



We may borrow the wings to find the 

way; 
We may hope, and resolve, and aspire, 

and pray; 
But our feet must rise, or we fall again. 

Only in dreams is a ladder thrown 

From the heavy earth to the sapphire 

walls ; 
But the dreams depart, and the vision 
falls. 
And the sleeper wakes on his pillow of 
stone. 

Heaven is not reached at a single bound; 
But we build the ladder by which we rise 
From the lowly earth to the vaulted 
skies. 
And we mount to the summit round by 
round. 

— /. G. Holland. 



GUILTY OR NOT GUILTY. 



SHE stood at the bar of justice, 
A creature wan and wild, 
In form too small for a woman, 
In features too old for a child; 
For a look so worn and pathetic 

Was stamped on her pale young face. 
It seemed long years of suffering 
Must have left that silent trace. 

"Your name?" said the judge, as he eyed 
her 

With a kindly look, yet keen, 
"Is Mary McGuire, if you please, sir." 

"And your age?" — "I am turned fifteen." 
"Well, Mary," and then from a paper 

He slowly and gravely read, 

"You are charged here — I'm sorry to say 
it— 

With stealing three loaves of bread. 

"You look not like an offender, 

And I hope that you can show 
The charge to be false. Now, tell me, 



Are you guilty of this, or no?" 
A passionate burst of weeping 

Was at first her sole reply. 
But she dried her eyes in a moment, 

And looked in the judge's eye. 

"I will tell you just how it was, sir; 

My father and mother are dead, 
And my little brother and sisters 

Were hungry and asked me for bread. 
At first I earned it for them 

By working hard all day, 
But somehow times were bad, sir, 

And the work all fell away. 

"I could get no more employment; 

The weather was bitter cold, 
The young ones cried and shivered — 

(Little Johnny's but four years old); 
So, what was I to do, sir? 

I am guilty, but do not condemn, 
I took — oh, was it stealing? — 

The bread to give to them." 



322 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL. 



Every man in the courtroom — 

Gray-beard and thoughtless youth — 
Knew, as he looked upon her, 

That the prisoner spoke the truth. 
Out of their pockets came kerchiefs, 

Out of their eyes sprung tears, 
And out of old faded wallets 

Treasures hoarded for years. 

The judge's face was a study — 
The strangest you ever saw. 

As he cleared his throat and murmured 
Something about the law. 



For one so learned in such matters. 

So wise in dealing with men, 
He seemed, on a simple question, 

Sorely puzzled just then. 

But no one blamed him or wondered. 

When at last these words were heard: 
"The sentence of this young prisoner 

Is, for the present, deferred." 
And no one blamed him or wondered 

When he went to her and smiled, 
And tenderly led from the courtroom. 

Himself, the "guilty" child. 



MY CREED. 



HOLD that Christian grace abounds 
Where charity is seen ; that when 
We climb to heaven, 'tis on the rounds 
Of love to men. 

I held all else, named piety, 

A selfish scheme, a vain pretense; 

Where center is not, can there be 
Circumference? 

This I moreover hold, and dare 
Afifirm where'er my rhyme may go. 

Whatever things be sweet or fair, 
Love makes them so. 

Whether it be the lullabies 

That charm to rest the nursing bird, 



Or that sweet confidence of sighs 
And blushes, made without a word. 

Whether the dazzling and the flush 
Of softly sumptuous garden bowers, 

Or by some cabin door, a bush 
Of ragged flowers. 

Tis not the wide phylactery. 

Nor stubborn fasts, nor stated prayers, 
That makes us saints; we judge the tree 

By what it bears. 

And when a man can live apart 
From works, on theologic trust, 

I know the blood about his heart 
Is dry as dust. 

— Alice Gary, 



THE GRAND MARCH. 



1 



ENNIS was hearty when Dennis was 
young. 

High was his step in the jig that he sprung, 
He had the looks an' the sootherin' 
tongue, — 
An' he wanted a girl wid a fortune. 

Nannie was grey-eyed an' Nannie was tall, 
Fair was the face hid in-undher her shawl. 



Troth! an' he liked her the best o' them 
all,— 
But she'd not a traneen to her fortune. 

He be to look out for a likier match, 

So he married a girl that was counted a 

catch. 
An' as ugly as need be, the dark little 
patch, — 
But that was a trifle, he tould her. 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL. 



2>^Z 



She brought him her good-lookin' gould 

to admire, 
She brought him her good-lookin' cows to 

his byre. 
But far from good-lookin' she sat by his 

fire, — 
An' paid him that "thrifle" he tould her. 

He met pretty Nan when a month had gone 

by, 
An' he thought like a fool to get round 

her he'd try; 



Wid a smile on her lip an' a spark in her 
eye,— 
She said, "How is the woman that owns 

ye?" 

Och, never be tellin' the life that he's led! 
Sure, many's the night that he'll wish him- 
self dead, 
For the sake o' two eyes in a pretty girl's 
head, — 
An' the tongue o' a woman that owns 
him. 

—Moira O'Neill. 



MOTHER'S BIRTHDAY. 



^^ H Y eightieth birthday, mother dear : 
f 1^ Thus far thy course hath run. 
So many milestones on the way 
Toward the setting sun: 

And as my mind goes back to trace 

Events that mark thy years: 
How griefs and joys do there find place, 

Alternate smiles and tears. 

Parents were thine who feared the Lord 

And trained thee in that way. 
Thy eighty years have proved 'tis best 

God's precept to obey. 

The home roof shelters strangers, now, 

And far from thee away 
In silent graves repose the friends 

So dear in childhood's day. 

Beneath the blue of Texan skies 

Some of thy kindred rest 
And one^ a herald of the cross, 

Lies sleeping in the West. 

Ah! mother dear, one cannot go 

As far as eighty years 
And never know the weight of woe. 

And what is meant bv tears. 



And though such sorrow hath been thine 

As makes the eyes o'erfiow, 
Still joy hath found thee many a time 

And gladdened thee, I know. 

And still may all that's best in life 

Attend thee on thy way; 
Shall not the pathway of the good 

Grow brighter day by day? 

May charm of book still captivate. 

May tender love of friends, 
May hopes of heaven and memories sweet 

Be thine unto the end. 

Thou hast three children left thee yet 

To love thee and revere, 
Mayst thou be spared to counsel us 

And bless us many a year. 

And children's children honor thee 
And hold thee welcome guest, 

This promise claim, "Thy children shall 
Rise up and call thee blest." 

And as thou goest towards the night 

That must o'ershadow all, 
May love make all thy pathway light, 

God's peace upon thee fall. 

— Mrs. C. G. A. Benjamin. 



324 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL. 



THE DAWN OF PEACE. 



r@)^ UT off, put off your mail, O kings, 
^ And beat your brands to dust ! 
Your hands must l«arn a surer grasp, 
Your hearts a better trust. 

Oh, bend aback the lance's point, 

And break the helmet bar; 
A noise is in the morning wind, 

But not the note of war. 

Upon the grassy mountain paths 
The glittering hosts increase — 

They come! they come! How fair their 
feet! 
They come who publish peace. 



And victory, fair victory, 

Our enemies are ours! 
For all the clouds are clasped in light, 

And all the earth with flowers. 

Aye, still depressed and dim with dew; 

But wait a little while, 
And with the radiant deathless rose 

The wilderness shall smile. 

And every tender, living thing 
Shall feed thy streams of rest ; 

Nor lamb shall from the flock be lost. 
Nor nursling from the nest. 

— John Ruskin. 



THE PRAYER OF SELF. 



©NE knelt within a world of care 
And sin, and lifted up his prayer: 
'T ask thee, Lord, for health and power 
To meet the duties of each hour ; 
For peace from care, for daily food. 
For hfe prolonged and filled with good; 
I praise thee for thy gifts received, 
For sins forgiven, for pains relieved, 
For near and dear ones spared and blest, 
For prospered toil and promised rest. 
This prayer I make in His great name 
Who for my soul's salvation came." 

But as he prayed, lo! at his side 

Stood the thorn-crowned Christ, and 

sighed : 
"O blind disciple, — came I then 
To bless the selfishness of men? 
Thou asketh health, amidst the cry 
Of human strain and agony; 
Thou asketh peace, while all around 
Trouble bows thousands to the ground; 
Thou asketh Hfe for thine and thee, 
While others die; thou thankest me 



For gifts, for pardon, for success 
For thine own narrow happiness. 

"Nay; rather bow thy head and pray 
That while thy brother starves to-day 
Thou mayst not eat thy bread at ease; 
Pray that no health, or wealth, or peace 
May lull thy soul while the world lies 
Suffering, and claims thy sacrifice; 
Praise not, while others weep, that thou 
Hast never groaned with anguished brow; 
Praise not, thy sins have pardon found. 
While others sink, in darkness drowned; 
Canst thou give thanks, while others nigh, 
Outcast and lost, curse God and die? 

"Not in My name thy prayer was made, 
Not for My sake thy praises paid. 
My gift is sacrifice; My blood 
Was shed for human brotherhood. 
And till thy brother's woe is thine 
Thy heart-beat knows no throb of Mine. " 
Come, leave thy selfish hopes, and see 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL. 



325 



Thy birthright of humanity! 
Shun sorrow not; be brave to bear 
The world's dark weight of sin and care; 



Spend and be spent, yearn, suffer, give, 
And in thy brethren learn to live." 

— Priscilla Leonard. 



MAUD MULLER. 



'AUD MULLER, on a summer's 
day, 
Raked the meadow sweet with hay. 

Beneath her torn hat glowed the wealth 
Of simple beauty and rustic health. 

Singing, she wrought, and her merry glee 
The mock-bird echoed from his tre*e. 

But when she glanced to the far-off town 
White from its hill-slope looking down, 

The sweet song died, and a vague unrest 
And a nameless longing filled her breast, — 

A wish, that she hardly dared to own. 

For something better than she had known. 

The Judge rode slowly down the lane, 
Smoothing his horse's chestnut mane. 

He drew his bridle in the shade 

Of the apple trees, to greet the maid, 

And ask a draught from the spring that 

flowed 
Through the meadow, across the road. 

She stooped where the cool spring bubbled 

up, 
And filled for him her small tin cup, 

And blushed as she gave it, looking down 
On her feet so bare, and her tattered gown. 

"Thanks!" said the Judge, "a sweeter 

draught 
From a fairer hand was never quaffed." 

He spoke of the grass and flowers and 
trees, 



Of the singing birds and the humming 
bees; 

Then talked of the haying, and wondered 

whether 
The cloud in the west would bring foul 

weather. 

And Maud forgot her brier-torn gown. 
And her graceful ankles, bare and brown, 

And listened, while a pleased surprise 
Looked from her long-lashed hazel eyes. 

At last, like one who for delay 
Seeks a vain excuse, he rode away. 

Maud Muller looked and sighed: "Ah, 

me! 
That I the Judge's bride might be! 

"He would dress me up in silks so line, 
And praise and toast me at his wine. 

"My father should wear a broadcloth coat, 
My brother should sail a painted boat. 

"Fd dress my mother so grand and gay. 
And the baby should have a new toy each 
day. 

"And I'd feed the hungry, and clothe the 

poor. 
And all should bless me who left our door." 

The Judge looked back as he climbed the 

hill. 
And saw Maud Muller standing still: 

"A form more fair, a face more sweet. 
Ne'er hath it been my lot to meet. 



326 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL. 



"And her modest answer and graceful air 
Show her wise and good as she is fair. 

"Would she were mine, and I to-day, 
Like her, a harvester of hay. 

"No doubtful balance of rights and wrongs, 
Nor weary lawyers with endless tongues, 

"But low of cattle, and song of birds. 
And health, and quiet, and loving words." 

But he thought of his sister, proud and 

cold, 
And his mother, vain of her rank and gold. 

So, closing his heart, the Judge rode on. 
And Maud was left in the field alone. 

But the lawyers smiled that afternoon, 
When he hummed in court an old love 
tune. 

And the young girl mused beside the well. 
Till the rain on the unraked clover fell. 

He wedded a wife of richest dower. 
Who lived for fashion as he for power. 

Yet oft, in his marble hearth's bright glow. 
He watched a picture come and go; 

And sweet Maud Muller's hazel eyes 
Looked out in their innocent surprise. 

Oft, when the wine in his glass was red, 
He longed for the wayside well instead. 

And closed his eyes on his garnished 

rooms, 
To dream of meadows and clover blooms; 

And the proud man sighed with a secret 

pain 
"Ah, that I were free again! 

"Free as when I rode that day 

Where the barefoot maiden raked the hay." 



She wedded a man unlearned and poor, 
And many children played round her door. 

But care and sorrow and child-birth pain, 
Left their traces on heart and brain. 

And oft, when the summer sun shone 'hot 
On the new-mown hay in the meadow-lot. 

And she heard the little spring brook fall 
Over the roadside, through the wall. 

In the shade of the apple-tree again 
She saw a rider draw his rein, 

And, gazing down with a timid grace, 
She felt his pleased eyes read her face. 

Sometimes her narrow kitchen walls 
Stretched away into stately halls; 

The weary wheel to a spinnet turned, 
The tallow candle an astral burned; 

And for him who sat by the chimney lug. 
Dozing and grumbling o'er pipe and mug, 

A manly form at her side she saw, 
And joy was duty, and love was law. 

Then she took up her burden of life again, 
Saying only "It might have been." 

Alas for maiden, alas for Judge, 

For rich repiner and household drudge! 

God pity them both! and pity us all. 
Who vainly the dreams of youth recall; 

For of all sad words of tongue or pen. 
The saddest are these: "It might have 
been!" 

Ah, well ! for us all some sweet hope lies 
Deeply buried from human eyes; 

And, in the hereafter, angels may 
Roll the stone from its grave away! 

— John Greenleaf IV hit tier. 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL. 



^^7 



THE VAGABONDS. 




^ E are two travelers, Roger and 1, 
Roger's my dog: — come here you 
scamp! 
Jump for the gentlemen, — mind your eye! 
Over the table, — look out for the 
lamp ! — 
The rogue is growing a little old: 

Five years we've tramped through wind 
and weather. 
And slept out-doors when nights were 
cold, 
And ate and drank — and starved to- 
gether. 

We've learned what comfort is, I tell you! 

A bed on the floor, a bit of rosin, 
A fire to thaw our thumbs (poor fellow! 
The paw he holds up there's been 
frozen), 
Plenty of catgut for my fiddle, 

(This out-door business is bad for 
strings), 
Then a few nice buckwheats hot from the 
griddle. 
And Roger and I set up for kings! 

No, thank ye, sir, — I never drink; 

Roger and I are exceedingly moral, — 
Aren't we, Roger? — see him wink! — 

Well, something hot, then, — we won't 
quarrel. 
He's thirsty, too, — see him nod his head? 

What a pity, sir, that dogs can't talk! 
He understands every word that's said, — 

And he knows good milk from water- 
and-chalk. 

The truth is, sir, now I reflect, 
Eve been so sadly given to grog, 

I wonder Eve not lost the respect 

(Here's to you, sir!) even of my dog. 

B-tlt he sticks by, through thick and thin; 
And this old coat, with its empty pock- 
ets, 



And rags that smell of tobacco and gin, 
He'll follow while he has eyes in his 
sockets. 

There isn't another creature living 

Would do it, and prove, through every 
disaster, 
So fond, so faithful, and so forgiving. 

To such a miserable, thankless master! 
No, sir! — see him wag his tail and grin! 

By George! It makes my old eyes 
water: 
That is, there's something in this gin 

That chokes a fellow. But no matter. 

We'll have some music, if you're willing. 
And Roger (hem ! what a plague a cough 
is, sir!) 
Shall march a little. — Start, you villain! 
Stand straight! 'Bout face! Salute 
your officer! 
Put up that paw! Dress! Take your rifle! 
(Some dogs have arms, you see!) Now 
hold your 
Cap while the gentlemen give a trifle 
To aid a poor old patriot soldier. 

March! Halt! Now show how the rebel 
shakes. 
When he stands up to hear his sentence. 
Now tell us how many drams it takes 
To honor a jolly new acquaintance. 
Five yelps, — that's five; he's mighty know- 
ing! 
The night's before us, fill the glasses! — 
Quick, sir! Em ill, — my brain is going! — 
Some brandy! — thank you! — there! — it 
passes! 

Why not reform? That's easily said; 
But Eve gone through such wretched 
treatment. 
Sometimes forgetting the taste of bread. 



328 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL. 



And scarce remembering what meat 
meant, 
That my poor stomach's past reform; 
And there are times when, mad with 
thinking, 
I'd sell out heaven for something warm 
To prop a horrible inward sinking. 

Is there a way to forget to think? 

At your age, sir, home, fortune, friends, 
A dear girl's love, — but I took to drink; — 
The same old story; you know how it 
ends. 
If you could have seen these classic fea- 
tures, — 
You needn't laugh, sir; they were not 
then 
Such a burning libel on God's creatures: 
I was one of your handsome men ! 

If ^ou had seen her, so fair and young, 

Whose head was happy on this breast! 
H you could have heard the songs I sung 

When the wine went round, you 
wouldn't have guessed 
That ever I, sir, should be straying 

From door to door, w-ith fiddle and dog. 
Ragged and penniless, and playing 

To you to-night for a glass of grog! 

She's married since, — a parson's wife: 
'Twas better for her that we should 
part,— 
Better the soberest, prosiest life 

Than a blasted home and a broken heart. 
I have seen her? Once: I was weak and 
spent; 



On the dusty road a carriage stopped: 
But little she dreamed as on she went. 
Who kissed the coin that her fingers 
dropped. 

You've set me talking, sir; I'm sorry. 

It makes me wild to think of the change! 
What do you care for a beggar's story? 

Is it amusing? you find it strange? 
I had a mother so proud of me! 

'Twas well she died before Do you 

know 
If the happy spirits in heaven can see 

The ruin and wretchedness here below? 

Another glass, and strong, to deaden 

This pain; then Roger and I will start. 
I wonder has he such a lumpish, leaden, 

Aching thing in place of a heart? 
He is sad sometimes, and would weep, if 
he could 

No doubt, remembering things that 
were, — 
A virtuous kennel, with plenty of food, 

And himself a sqber, respectable cur. 

I'm better now; that glass was warming, — 

You rascal! limber your lazy feet! 
We must be fiddling and performing 
For supper and bed, or starve in the 
street. 
Not a very gay life to lead, you think? 
But soon we shall go where lodgings are 
free, 
And the sleepers need neither victuals nor 
drink; — 
The sooner the better, for Roger and me. 
— /. T. Trowbridge. 



THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. 

OW dear to this heart are the scenes 



1 1 of my childhood 

When fond recollection presents them 
to view! 
The orchard, the meadow, the deep-tan- 
gled wild-wood, 



And every loved spot which my infancy 
knew: — 
The wide-spreading pond, and the mill 
which stood by it, 
The bridge, and the rock where the cata- 
ract fell; 



PASTORAL AN.D PEACEFUL. 



329 



The cot of my father, the dairy-house nigh 
it, 
And e'en the rude bucket which hung in 
the well. 
The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound 
bucket, 
The moss-covered bucket which hung in 
the well. 

That moss-covered vessel I hail as a treas- 
ure 
For often at noon, when returned from 
the field, 
I found it the source of an exquisite pleas- 
ure. 
The purest and sweetest that nature can 
yield. 
How ardent I seized it, with hands that 
were glowing! 
And quick to the white-pebbled bottom 
it fell; 
Then soon, with the emblem of truth over- 
flowing, 
And dripping with coolness, it rose from 
the well; 



The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound 

bucket 
The moss-covered bucket, arose from the 

well. 



How sweet from the green mossy brim to 
receive it. 
As, poised on the curb, it inclined to my 
lips! 
Not a full blushing goblet could tempt me 
to leave it 
Though filled with the nectar that Jupi- 
ter sips. 
And now, far removed from the loved sit- 
uation, 
The tear of regret will intrusively swell, 
As fancy reverts to my father's plantation, 
And sighs for the bucket which hangs in 
the well; 
The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound 

bucket, 
The moss-covered bucket which hangs in 
the well. 

— Samuel Woodzvorth. 



THANATOPSIS. 



O him, who, in the love of nature, 

holds 
Communion with her visible forms, she 

speaks 
A various language ; for his gayer hours 
She has a voice of gladness, and a smile 
And eloquence of beauty, and she glides 
Into his darker musings, with a mild 
And gentle sympathy, that steals away 
Their sharpness, ere he is aware. 



When thoughts 
Of the last bitter hour, come Hke a blight 
Over thy spirit, and sad images 
Of the stern agony, and shroud, and pall. 



And breathless darkness, and the narrow 

house. 
Make thee to shudder and grow sick at 

heart; 
Go forth into the open sky, and list 
To nature's teaching, while from all 

around. 
Comes a still voice: — 



Yet a few days, and thee, 
The all-beholding sun shall see no more 
In all his course; nor yet, in the cold 

ground, 
Where thy pale form was laid with many 
tears, 



330 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL. 



Nor in the embrace of ocean, shall exist 
Thy image. Earth, that nourished thee, 

shall claim 
Thy growth, to be resolved to earth again; 
And, lost each human trace, surrendering 

up 
Thine individual being, shalt thou go 
To mix forever with the elements. 
To be a brother to th' insensible rock 
And to the sluggish clod, which the rude 

swain 
Turns with his share and treads upon. 

The oak 
Shall send its roots abroad, and pierce thy 

mold. 
Yet not to thy eternal resting place 
Shalt thou retire alone, nor couldst thou 

wish 
Couch more magnificent. Thou shalt lie 

down 
With patriarchs of the infant world, with 

kings, 
The powerful of the earth, the wise, the 

good, 
Fair forms, and hoary seers of ages past, 
All in one mighty sepulchre. 

The hills, 
Rock-ribbed and ancient as the sun: the 

vales, 
Stretching in pensive quietness between: 
The venerable woods: rivers that move 
In majesty, and the complaining brooks 
That make the meadows green; and 

poured round all. 
Old ocean's gray and melancholy waste. 
Are but the solemn decorations all 
Of the great tomb of man. The golden 

sun. 
The planets, all the infinite host of heaven, 
Are shining on the sad abodes of death. 
Through the still lapse of ages. 



All that tread 
The globe, are but a handful, to the tribes 
That slumber in its bosom. Take the 

wings 
Of morning, and the Barcan desert pierce. 
Or lose thyself in the continuous woods 
Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no 

sound 
Save its own dashings — yet — the dead are 

there; 
And millions in those solitudes, since first 
The flight of years began, have laid them 

down 
In their last sleep: the dead reign there 

alone. 



So shalt thou rest; and what if thou shalt 

fall 
Unnoticed by the living; and no friend 
Take note of thy departure? All that 

breathe 
Will share thy destiny. The gay will laugh 
When thou art gone; the solemn brood of 

care 
Plod on; and each one, as before, will 

chase 
His favorite phantom; yet all these shall 

leave 
Their mirth and their enjoyments, and 

shall come 
And make their bed with thee. As the 

long train 
Of ages glide away, the sons of men. 
The youth in life's green spring, and he 

who goes 
In the full strength of years, matron and 

maid, 
The bowed wath age, the infant in the 

smiles 
And beauty of its innocent age cut off, — 
Shall, one by one, be gathered to thy side, 
By those, who, in their turn shall follow 

them. 

— William Cullen Bryant. 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL. 



331 



CRADLE SONG. 

(from "bitter sweet.") 




HAT is the little one thinking 

r^W r about ? 
Very wonderful things, no doubt; 
Unwritten history! 
Unfathomed mystery! 
Yet he chuckles, and crows, and nods, and 

winks, 
As if his head were as full of kinks. 
And curious riddles as any sphinx! 
Warped by colic, and wet by tears. 
Punctured by pins, and tortured by fears. 
Our little nephew will lose two years; 
And he'll never know 
Where the summers go; 
He need not laugh, for he'll find it so. 
Who can tell what a baby thinks? 
Who can follow the gossamer links, 

By which the manikin feels his way 
Out from the shore' of the great unknown, 
Blind, and waiting, and alone 

Into the light of day; 
Out from the shore of the unknown sea, 
Tossing in pitiful agony; 
Of the unknown sea that reels and rolls. 
Specked with the barks of little souls, — 
Barks that were launched on the other side, 
And slipped from heaven on an ebbing 
tide. 



What does he think of his mother's eyes? 
What does he think of his mother's hair? 

What of the cradle-roof, that flies 
Forward and backward through the air? 

What does he think of his mother's 
breast. 
Bare and beautiful, smooth and white. 
Seeking it ever with fresh delight. 

Cup of his life, and couch of his rest? 
What does he think when her quick em- 
brace 
Presses his hand and buries his face 
Deep v/here the heart-throbs sink and 

swell. 
With a tenderness she can never tell. 

Though she murmur the words 

Of all the birds,— 
Words she has learned to murmur well? 

Now he thinks he'll go to sleep! 

I can see the shadow creep 
Over his eyes in soft eclipse. 
Over his brow and over his lips, 
Out to his little finger-tips! 
Softly sinking, down he goes! 
Down he goes! down he goes! 
See! he's hushed in sweet repose. 

— /. G. Holland. 



THE LAUNCHING OF THE SHIP. 



|LL is finished, and at length 
Has come the bridal day 
Of beauty and of strength. 
To-day the vessel shall be launched! 
With fleecy clouds the sky is blanched. 
And o'er the bay. 
Slowly, in all his splendors dight. 
The great sun rises to behold the sight. 

The ocean old. 
Centuries old, 



Strong as youth, and as uncontrolled, 

Paces restless to and fro. 

Up and down the sands of gold. 

His beating heart is not at rest; 

And far and wide 

With ceaseless flow 

His beard of snow 

Heaves with the heaving of his breast. 

He waits impatient for his bride. 
There she stands. 



zz^ 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL. 



With her foot upon the sands, 
Decked with flags and streamers gay, 
In honor of her marriage day, 
Her snow-white signals fluttering, blend- 
ing, 
Round her like a veil descending, 
Ready to be 
The bride of the gray old sea. 

Then the Master, 
With a gesture of command, 
Waved his hand; 
And at the word. 
Loud and sudden there was heard. 
All around them and below, 
The sound of hammers, blow on blow. 
Knocking away the shores and spurs. 
And see! she stirs! 

She starts, — she moves, — she seems to feel 
The thrill of life along her keel, 
And, spurning with her foot the ground, 
With one exulting, joyous bound, 
. She leaps into the ocean's arms. 
And lo! from the assembled crowd 
There rose a shout, prolonged and loud. 
That to the ocean seemed to say, 
"Take her, O, bridegroom, old and gray; 
Take her to thy protecting arms. 
With all her youth and all her charms." 

How beautiful she is! how fair 
She lies within those arms, that press 
Her form with many a soft caress 
Of tenderness and watchful care! 
Sail forth into the sea, O ship! 
Through wind and wave, right onward 
steer, 



The moistened eye, the trembling lip, 
Are not the signs of doubt or fear. 

Sail forth into the sea of life, 
Oh gentle, loving, trusting wife, 
And safe from all adversity, 
Upon the bosom of that sea 
Thy comings and thy goings be! 
For gentleness, and love, and trust, 
Prevail o'er angry wave and gust; 
And in the wreck of noble lives 
Some thing immortal still survives! 

Thou, too, sail on, O ship of State! 
Sail on, O Union, strong and great! 
Plumanity, with all its fears. 
With all its hopes of future years. 
Is hanging breathless on thy fate! 
We know what Master laid thy keel. 
What workmen wrought thy ribs of steel, 
Who made each mast, and sail and rope, 
Wliat anvils rang, what hammers beat, 
In what a forge, and what a heat. 
Were shaped the anchors of thy hope. 

Fear not each sudden sound and shock, 

'Tis of the wave, and not the rock; 

'Tis but the flapping of the sail, 

And not a rent made by the gale. 

In spite of rock and tempest roar, 

In spite of false lights on the shore, 

Sail on, nor fear to breast the sea. 

Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee; 

Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our 

tears. 
Our faith triumphant o'er our fears, 
A^e all with thee — are all with thee. 

— Longfellow. 



GOD'S-ACRE. 



X>IKE that ancient Saxon phrase which 
calls 
The burial-ground God's- Acre! It is 
just; 
It consecrates each grave within its walls, 



And breathes a benison o'er the sleeping 
dust. 

God's-Acre! Yes, that blessed name im- 
parts 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL. 



333 



Comfort to those who in the grave have 

sown 
The seed that they have garnered in their 

hearts, 
Their bread of Hfe, alas! no more their 

own. 

Into its furrows shall we all be cast, 

In the sure faith that we shall rise again 
At the great harvest, when the archangel's 
blast 
Shall winnow, Hke a fan, the chaff and 
grain. 

Then shall the good stand in immortal 
bloom, 



In the fair gardens of that second birth; 
And each bright blossom mingle its per- 
fume 
With that of flowers which never 
bloorned on earth. 



With thy rude ploughshare. Death, turn up 
the sod. 
And spread the furrow for the seed we 
sow; 
This is the field and Acre of our God, 
This is the place where human harvests 
grow! 
— Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 



LITTLE BREECHES. 

(A PIKE COUNTY VIEW OF SPECIAL PROVIDENCE.) 



f DON'T go much on religion, 
I never ain't had no show; 
But I've got a middlin' tight grip, Sir, 

On the handful of things I know. 
I don't pan out on the prophets. 

And free-will, and that sort of thing; 
But I believe in God and the angels. 
Ever since one night last spring. 

I come into town with some turnips. 

And my little Gabe come along — 
No four-year-old in the country 

Could beat him for pretty and strong, 
Peart and chipper and sassy, 

Always ready to swear and fight; 
And I'd larnt him to chew terbacker. 

Jest to keep his milk-teeth white. 

The snow come down like a blanket 

As I passed by Taggart's store; 
I went in for a jug of molasses, 

And left the team at the door. 
They skeered at something and started- 

I heerd one little squall, 
And hell-to-split over the prairie 

Went team, Little Breeches, and all! 



Heil-to-split over the prairie! 

I was almost froze with skeer, 
But we roused up some torches, 

And sarched for 'em far and near. 
At last we struck bosses and wagon, 

Snowed under a soft white mound, 
Upsot, dead beat — but of little Gabe 

No hide nor hair was found. 

And here all hope soured on me. 

Of my fellow critters' aid — 
I jest flopped down on my marrow-bones, 

Crotch-deep in the snow, and prayed 

* >|; 5f: ;;< ;j: -^ 

By this the torches was played out. 

And me and Isrul Parr 
Went ofif for some wood to a sheep-fold 

That he said was somewhar thar. 

We found it at last, and a little shed 

Whar they shut up the lambs at night; 
We looked in, and seen them huddled thar, 

So warm and sleepy and white. 
And thar sot Little Breeches, and chirped, 

As peart as ever you see, 
"I want a chaw of terbacker. 

And that's what's the matter of me," 



334 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL. 



How did he git thar? Angels. 

He could never have walked in that 
storm, 
They jest scooped down and toted him 

To whar it was safe and warm. 



And I think that saving a little child 
And bringing him to his own, 

Is a derned sight better business 
Than loafing around the Throne. 

— John Hay. 



WOODMAN, SPARE THAT TREE. 




JL OODMAN, spare that tree! 

fff 1 Touch not a single bough! 
In youth it sheltered me, 

And I'll protect it now. 
'Twas my forefather's hand 

That placed it near his cot; 
There, woodman, let it stand, 

Thy axe shall harm it not! 

That old familiar tree, 

Whose glory and renown 
Are spread o'er land and sea, 

And wouldst thou hew it down? 
Woodman, forbear thy stroke! 

Cut not its earth-bound ties; 
O spare that aged oak, 

Now towering to the skies! 



When but an idle boy 

I sought its grateful shade; 

In all their gushing joy- 
Here, too, my sisters played. 

My mother kissed me here; 
My father pressed my hand — 

Forgive this foolish tear. 
But let that old oak stand ! 

My heart-strings round thee cling. 

Close as thy bark, old friend! 
Here shall the wild-bird sing. 

And still thy branches bend, 
Old tree! the storm still brave! 

And woodman, leave the spot. 
While I've a hand to save, 

The axe shall hurt it not. 

— George P. Morris. 



THE DOORSTEP. 



fiHE conference-meeting through at 
last, 
We boys around the vestry waited 
To see the girls come tripping past 
Like snow-birds willing to be mated. 

Not braver he that leaps the wall 
By level musket-flashes litten. 

Than I, who steppea before them all. 
Who longed to see me get the mitten. 

But no; she blushed, and took my arm! 

We let the old folks have the highway, 
And started toward the Maple Farm 

Along a kind of lover's by-way. 



I can't remember what we said, 

'T was nothing worth a song or story; 

Yet that rude path by which we sped 
Seemed all transformed and in a glory. 

The snow was crisp beneath our feet. 
The moon was full, the fields were 
gleaming; 
By hood and tippet sheltered sweet. 

Her face with youth and health was 
beaming. 

The little hand outside her muiT — 

O sculptor, if you could but mould it! — 

So lightly touched my jacket cufif. 
To keep it warm I had to hold it. 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL. 



335 



To have her with me there alone, — 

'T was love and fear and triumph 
blended. 

At last we reached the foot-worn stone 
Where that delicious journey ended. 

The old folks, too, were almost home; 

Her dimpled hand the latches fingered, 
We heard the voices nearer come, 

Yet on the door-step still we lingered. 

She shook her ringlets from her hood. 
And with a "Thank you, Ned," dissem- 
bled, 

But yet I knew she understood 

With what a daring wish I trembled. 



A cloud passed kindly overhead, 

The moon was slyly peeping through it, 

Yet hid its face, as if it said, 

"Come, now or never! do it ! do it!" 

My lips till then had only known 
The kiss of mother and of sister. 

But somehow, full upon her own 

Sweet, rosy, darling mouth — I kissed 
her! 

Perhaps 't was boyish love, yet still, 
O listless woman, weary lover! 

To feel once more that fresh, wild thrill 
I'd give — But who can live youth over? 
— Edmund Clarence Stedman. 



ROLL ON THOU DEEP AND DARK BLUE OCEAN. 



OLL on, thou deep and dark blue 
ocean — roll! 
Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in 
vain ; 
^d;an marks the earth with ruin — his con- 
trol 
Stops with the shore; — upon the watery 

plain 
The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth re- 
main 
A shadow of man's ravage, save his own, 

When, for a moment, like a drop of rain, 
Pie sinks into thy depths with bubbling 

groan. 
Without a grave, unknelled, uncofhned, 
and unknown. 



Thou glorious mirror! where the Almigh- 
ty's form 
Glasses itself in tempests; in all time. 
Calm or convulsed — in breeze, or gale, or 
storm, 
Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime 
Dark heaving; boundless, endless, and 
sublime — 
The image of eternity — the throne 

Of the invisible; even from out thy slime 
The monsters of the deep are made; each 

zone 
Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, 
fathomless, alone. 

— Lord Byron. 



O, WHY SHOULD THE SPIRIT OF MORTAL BE PROUD? 



WHY should the spirit of mortal be 
J proud? 

Like a swift-fleeting njeteor, a fast-flying 

cloud, 
A flash of the lightning, a break of the 

wave, 
Man passes from life to his rest in the 

srrave. 



The leaves of the oak and the w'illow shall 

fade. 
Be scattered around and together be 

laid; 
And the young and the old, and the low 

and the high, 
Shall moulder to dust and together shall 

lie. 



336 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL. 



The. infant a mother attended and loved, 
The mother that infant's affection who 

proved ; 
The husband that mother and infant who 

blessed, 
Each, all, are away to their dwellings of ' 

rest. 

The maid on whose cheek, on whose brow, 

in whose eye. 
Shone beauty and pleasure, — her triumphs 

are by; 
And the memory of those who loved her 

and praised. 
Are alike from the minds of the living 

erased. 

The hand of the king that the sceptre hath 

borne; 
The brow of the priest that the mitre hath 

worn; 
The eye of the sage and the heart of the 

brave, 
Are hidden and lost in the depth of the 

grave. 

The peasant, whose lot was to sow and to 

reap; 
The herdsman, who climbed with his goats 

up the steep; 
The beggar, who wandered in search of his 

bread, 
Have faded away like the grass that we 

tread. 

The saint who enjoyed the communion of 

heaven, 
The sinner who dared to remain unfor- 

given, 
The wise and the foolish, the guilty and 

just. 
Have quietly mingled their bones in the 

dust. 

So the multitude goes like the flowers or 
the weed. 



That withers away to let others succeed; 
So the multitude comes, even those we 

behold, 
To repeat every tale that has often been 

told. 

For we are the same our fathers have 

been ; 
We see the same sights our fathers have 

seen, — 
We drink the same stream, and view the 

same sun. 
And run the same course our fathers have 

run. 

The thoughts we are thinking our fathers 

would think; 
From the death we are shrinking our 

fathers would shrink; 
To the life we are clinging they also would 

cling. 
But it speeds for us all like a bird on the 

wing^. 

They loved, but the story we cannot unfold; 

They scorned, but the heart of the haughty 
is cold. 

They grieved, but no wail from their slum- 
bers will come; 

They joyed, but the tongue of their glad- 
ness is dumb. 

They died, ay! they died: and we things 

that are now. 
Who walk on the turf that lies over their 

brow, 
Who make in their dwelling a transient 

abode, 
Meet the things that they met on their 

pilgrimage road. 

Yea! hope and despondency, pleasure and 

pain, 
We mingle together in sunshine and rain; 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL. 



337 



And the smiles and the tears, the song and 

the dirge, 
Still follow each other, like surge upon 

surge. 

'Tis the wink of an eye, 'tis the draught 
of a breath, 



From the blossom of health to the paleness 

of death. 
From the gilded saloon to the bier and 

the shroud, — 
O, why should the spirit of mortal be 

proud? 

— W. Knox. 



THE INQUIRY. 



ELL me, ye winged winds, that round 
my pathway roar, 
Do ye not know some spot where mortals 

weep no more? 
Some lone and pleasant dell, some valley in 

the west. 
Where, free from toil and pain, the weary 
soul may rest? 
The loud wind dwindled to a whisper 

low. 
And sigh'd for pity as it answer'd — 
"No." 



Tell me, thou mighty deep, whose billows 

round me play, 
Know'st thou some favor'd spot, some 

island far away, 
Where weary man may find the bliss for 

which he sighs — 
Where sorrow never lives, and friendship 

never dies? 
The loud waves, rolling in perpetual 

flow, 
Stopp'd for a while, and sigh'd to answer 

—''No." 



And thou, serenest moon, that, with such 

lovely face, 
Dost look upon the earth, asleep in night's 

embrace; 
Tell me, in all thy round, hast thou not 

seen some spot. 
Where miserable man might find a happier 

lot? 
Behind a cloud the moon withdrew in 

woe, 
And a voice, sweet, but sad, responded — 

"No." 

Tell me, my secret soul; — oh! tell me, 

Hope and Faith, 
Is there no resting place from sorrow, sin, 

and death? — 
Is there no happy spot, where mortals may 

be bless'd. 
Where grief may find a balm, and weari- 
ness a rest? 
Faith, Hope, and Love best boons to 

mortals given. 
Waved their bright wings, and whisper'd 
— "Yes, in Heaven !" 

— Charles Mackay. 



THE CREEDS OF THE BELLS. 



OW sweet the chime of the Sabbath 
ri bells! 
Each one its creed in music tells. 
In tones that float upon the air 
As soft as song, as pure as prayer; 
And I will put in simple rhyme 
The language of the golden chime; 



My happy heart with rapture swells 
Responsive to the bells, sweet bells! 

"In deeds of love excel! excel!" 
Chimed out from ivied towers a bell; 
"This is the church not built on sands, 
Emblem of one not built with hands: 



338 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL. 



Its forms and sacred rites revere; 
Come worship here! Come worship here! 
In rituals and faith excel!" 
Chimed out the Episcopalian bell. 

"Oh, heed the ancient landmarks well!" 
In solemn tones exclaimed a bell. 
"No progress made by mortal man 
Can change the just, eternal plan; 
With God there can be nothing new; 
Ignore the false, embrace the true, 
While all is well! is well! is well!" 
Pealed out the good old Dutch church bell. 

"Ye purifying waters, swell!" 
In mellow tones rang out a bell ; 
"Though faith alone in Christ can save, 
Man must be plunged beneath the wave, 
To show the world unfalteringr faith 
In what the Sacred Scriptures saith: 
Oh, swell! ye rising waters, swell!" 
Pealed out the clear-toned Baptist bell. 

"Not faith alone, but works as well. 
Must test the soul!" said a soft bell; 
"Come here and cast aside your load. 
And work your way along the road. 
With faith in God, and faith in man. 
And hope in Christ where hope began; 
Do well! do well! do well! do well!" 
Rang out the Unitarian bell. 

"Farewell! farewell! base world, forever!'' 
In touching tones exclaimed a bell. 
"Life is a boon to mortals given 
To fit the soul for bliss in heaven ; 
Do not invoke the avenging rod. 
Come here and learn the way to God! 
Say to the world, Farewell! farewell!" 
Pealed forth the Presbyterian bell. 

"To all the truth we tell! we tell!" 
Shouted in ecstasies a bell; 
"Come, all ye weary wanderers, see! 
Our Lord has made salvation free! 
Repent, believe, have faith, and then 
Be saved, and praise the Lord, Amen! 



Salvation's free, we tell! we tell!" 
Shouted the Methodistic bell. 

"In after life there is no hell!" 
In raptures rang a cheerful bell; 
"Look up to heaven this holy day. 
Where angels wait to lead the way; 
There are no fires, no fiends to blight 
The future life ; be just and right. 
No hell! no hell! no hell! no hell!" 
Rang out the Universalist bell. 

"The Pilgrim Fathers heeded well 

My cheerful voice," pealed forth a bell; 

"No fetters here to clog the soul; 

No arbitrary creeds control 

The free heart and progressive mind, 

That leave the dusty path behind. 

Speedwell! speedwell! speedwell! speed 

well!" 
Pealed forth the Independent bell. 

"No pope, no pope, to doom to hell!" 
The Protestant rang out a bell ; 
"Great Luther left his fiery zeal 
Within the hearts that truly feel 
That loyalty to God will be 
The fealty that makes men free. 
No images where incense fell!" 
Rang out old Martin Luther's bell. 

"All hail, ye saints in heaven that dwell 
Close by the cross!" exclaimed a bell; 
"Lean o'er the battlements of bliss. 
And deign to bless a world like this; 
Let mortals kneel before this shrine — 
Adore the water and the wine! 
All hail, ye saints, the chorus swell!" 
Chimed in the Roman Catholic bell. 

"Ye workers who have toiled so well 
To save the race!" said a sweet bell; 
"With pledge, and badge, and banner, 

come, 
Each brave heart beating like a drum; 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL. 



339 



Be royal men of noble deeds, 
For love is holier than creeds; 



fSAW him once before, 
As he passed by the door; 
And again 
The pavement stones resound 
As he totters o'er the ground 
With his cane. 

They say that in his prime, 
Ere the pruning knife of time 

Cut him down, 
Not a better man was found 
By the crier on his round 

Through the town. 

But now he walks the streets, 
And he looks at all he meets, 

So forlorn; 
And he shakes his feeble head, 
That it seems as if he said, 
"They are gone!" 

The mossy marbles rest 

On the lips that he has pressed 

In their bloom; 
And the names he loved to hear 
Have been carved for many a year 

On the tomb. 



Drink from the well, the well, the well!" 
In rapture rang the Temperance bell. 



THE LAST LEAF. 

My grandmamma has said — 
Poor old lady! she is dead 

Long ago — 
That he had a Roman nose. 
And his cheek was like a rose 

In the snow. 



But now his nose is thin, 
And it rests upon his chin 

Like a staff; 
And a crook is in his back. 
And a melancholy crack 

In his laugh. 

I know it is a sin 
For me to sit and grin 

At him here. 
But the old three-cornered hat, 
And the breeches, — and all that, 

Are so queer! 

And if I should live to be 
The last leaf upon the tree 

In the spring, 
Let them smile as I do now. 
At the old forsaken bough 

Where I cling. 

— Oliver Wendell Holmes. 



JEST FORE CHRISTMAS. 

(RECITATION FOB A BOY FROM SEVEN TO TEN.) 



li'i^l ATHER calls me William, sister calls 
me Will, 
Mother calls me Willie, but the fellers call 

me Bill. 
Mighty glad I ain't a girl — ruther be a boy, 
Without them sashes, curls an' things 

that's worn by Fauntleroy! 
Love to chawnk green apples, an' go 
swimmin' in the lake — 



Hate to take the castor oil they give for 

belly-ache! 
"Most all the time, the whole year round, 

there ain't no flies on me, 
But jest 'fore Christmas I'm as good as I 

kin be! 

Got a yeller dog named Sport, sick him on 
the cat; 



340 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL. 



First thing she knows she doesn't know 

where she is at! 
Got a cHpper sled, an' when us kids goes 

out to sHde, 
"Long comes the grocery cart, an' we all 

. hook a ride, 
But sometimes when the grocery man is 

worrited an' cross, 
He reaches at us with his whip, an' larrups 

up his hoss. 
An' then I laff an' holler: "Oh, ye never 

teched me!" 
But jest 'fore Christmas I'm as good as I 

kin be! 
Gran'ma says she hopes that when I get to 

be a man, 

IF WE 

fF -we knew the woe and heartache 
Waiting for us down the road, 
If our lips could taste the wormwood. 

If our backs could feel the load; 
Would we waste the day in wishing 

For a time that ne'er can be? 
Would we wait with such impatience 
For our ships to come from sea? 

If we knew the baby fingers. 

Pressed against the window pane, 
Would be cold and stifif to-morrow — 

Never trouble us again; 
Would the bright eyes of our darling 

Catch the frown upon our brow? 
Would the print of rosy fingers 

Vex us then as they do now? 

Ah! these little ice-cold fingers! 

How they point our memories back 
To the hasty words and actions 

Strewn along our backward track! 
How these little hands remind us. 

As in snowy grace they lie. 
Not to scatter thorns, but roses, 

For our reaping by and by. 



I'll be a rnissionarer like her oldest brother, 

Dan, 
As was et up by the cannibuls that lives in 

Ceylon's I'le, 
Where every prospeck pleases, an' only 

man is vile! 
But Gran'ma she has never been to see a 

Wild West show. 
Nor read the Life of Daniel Boone, or else 

I guess she'd know 
That Bufif'lo Bill an' cowboys is good 

enough for me, 
Excep' jest 'fore Christmas, when I'm as 

good as I kin be! 

KNEW. 

Strange we never prize the music 

Till the sweet-voiced bird has flown; 
Strange that we should slight the violets 

Till the lovely flowers are gone ; 
Strange that summer skies and sunshine 

Never seem one-half so fair 
As when winter's snowy pinions 

Shake their white down in the air. 

Lips from which the seal of silence 

None but God can roll away, 
Never blossomed in such beauty 

As adorns the mouth to-day; 
And sweet words that freight our memory 

With their beautiful perfume. 
Come to us in sweeter accents 

Through the portals of the tomb. 

Let us gather up the sunbeams. 

Lying all around our path; 
Let us keep the wheat and roses. 

Casting out the thorns and chafif; 
Let us find our sweetest comfort 

In the blessings of to-day; 
With the patient hand removing 

All the briars from our way. 

— Anonymous. 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL. 



341 



WE PARTED IN SILENCE. 




E parted in silence, we parted by 
night, 

On the banks of that lonely river; 
Where the fragrant limes their boughs 
unite 
We met — and we parted forever! 
The night-bird sung, and the stars above 

Told many a touching story, 
Of friends long passed to the kingdom of 
love, 
Where the soul wears its mantle of glory. 

We parted in silence — our cheeks were wet 
With the tears that were past controll- 
ing; 

We vowed we would never, no, never for- 
get, 



And those vows at the time were consol- 
ing; 
But those lips that echoed the sounds of 
mine. 
Are as cold as that lonely river; 
And that eye, that beautiful spirit's shrine, 
Has shrouded its fires forever. 

And now on the midnight sky I look. 

And my heart grows full of weeping; 
Each star is to me a sealed book. 

Some tale of that loved one keeping. 
We parted in silence, — we parted in tears. 

On the banks of that lonely river; 
But the odor and bloom of those bygone 
years 

Shall hang o'er its waters forever. 

— Mrs. Crazvford. 



THE ISLE OF LONG AGO. 



H a wonderful stream is the river 
Time 

As it runs through the realm of tears. 
With a faultless rhythm and a musical 

rhyme. 
And a boundless sweep and a surge sub- 
lime, 
As it blends with the Ocean of Years. 

How the winters are drifting like flakes of 
snow. 
And the summers, like buds between; 
And the years in the sheaf — so they come 

and they go 
On the river's breast, with its ebb and flow. 
As it glides in the shadow and sheen. 

There's a magical isle up the river of Time, 
Where the softest of airs are playing; 

There's a cloudless sky and a tropical 
clime, 

And a song as sweet as a vesper chime, 
And the Junes with the roses are staying. 



And the name of that Isle is the Long 
Ago, 
And we bury our treasures there; 
There are brows of beauty and bosoms of 

snow. 
There are heaps of dust — but we love them 
so! — 
There are trinkets and tresses of hair; 

There are fragments of song that nobody 
sings. 
And a part of an infant's prayer; 
There's a lute unswept, and a harp without 

strings ; 
There are broken vows and pieces of rings. 
And the garments that she used to wear. 

There are hands that are waved, when the 
fairy shore 
By the mirage is lifted in air; 

And we sometimes hear, through the turbu- 
lent roar, 



342 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL. 



Sweet voices we heard in the days gone 
before, 
When the wind down the river is fair. 

Oh, remembered for aye be the blessed 
Isle, 
All the day of our life till night— 



When the evening comes with its beautiful 

smile, 
And our eyes are closing to slumber 
awhile, 
May that "Greenwood" of soul be in 
sight. 

— Benjamin F. Taylor, 



HOME, SWEET HOME. 




ID pleasures and palaces though we 

may roam, 

Be it ever so humble there's no place like 

home! ■■..-> 

A charm from the skies seems tc hallow us 

there. 
Which, seek through the world, is ne'er 

met with elsewhere. 
Home! home! sweet, sweet home! 
There's no place like home! 



An exile from home, splendor dazzles in 

vain! 
Oh, give me my lowly thatched cottage 

again ! 
The birds singing gayly that came at my 

call ; — 
Giye me them, and the peace of mind dearer 

than all! 
Home! home! sweet, sweet home! 
There's no place like home! 

— John Howard Payne. 



OVER THE RIVER. 



J VER the river they beckon to me, 
Loved ones who've crossed to the 
farther side. 
The gleam of their snowy robes I see. 
But their voices are lost in the dashing 
tide. 
There's one with ringlets of sunny gold. 
And eyes the reflection of heaven's own 
blue ; 
He crossed in the twilight gray and cold, 
And the pale mist hid him from mortal 
view. 
We saw not the angels who met him there. 
The gates of the city we could not see: 
Oyer the river, over the river. 

My brother stands waiting to welcome 
me. 



Over the river the boatman pale 
Carried another, the household pet ; 



Her brown curls waved in the gentle gale, 

Darling Minnie! I see her yet. 
She crossed on her bosom her dimpled 
hands. 
And fearlessly entered the phantom 
bark; 
We felt it glide from the silver sands, 
And all our sunshine grew strangely 
dark; 
We know she is safe on the farther side, 
Where all the- ransomed and angels be: 
Over the river, the mystic river, 

My childhood's idol is waiting for me. 

For none return from those quiet shores. 
Who cross with the boatman cold and 
pale; 
We hear the dip of the golden oars, 

And catch a gleam of the snowy sail; 
And lo! they have passed from our yearn- 
ing hearts, 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL. 



?43 



They cross the stream and are gone for 
aye. 
We may not sunder the veil apart 

That hides from our vision the gates of 
day; 
We only know that their barks no more 
May sail with us o'er life's stormy sea; 
Yet somewhere, I know, on the unseen 
shore. 
They watch, and beckon, and wait for 
me. 

And I sit and think, when the sunset's gold 

Is flushing river and hill and shore, 
I shall stand one day by the water cold. 



And list for the sound of the boatman's 
oar; 
I shall watch for a gleam of the flapping 
sail, 
I shall hear the boat as it gains the 
strand, 
I shall pass from sight with the boatman 
pale 
To the better shore of the spirit land. 
I shall know the loved who have gone 
before, 
And joyfully sweet will the meeting be. 
When over the river, the peaceful river, 
The angel of death shall carry me. 

— Nancy Woodbury Priest. 



TWO WOMEN. 



HE shadows lay along Broadway, 
'T was near the twilight-tide. 
And slowly there a lady fair 

Was walking in her pride. 
Alone walked she; but viewlessly 
Walked spirits at her side. 

Peace charmed the street beneath her feet, 

And honor charmed the air 
And all astir looked kind on her, 

And called her good as fair, — 
For all God ever gave to her 

She kept with chary care. 

She kept with care her beauties rare 

From lovers warm and true. 
For her heart was cold to all but gold. 

And the rich came not to woo, — 



But honored well are charms to sell 
If priests the selling do. 

Now walking there was one more fair, — 

A .slight girl, lily pale; 
And she had unseen company 

To make the spirit quail, — 
'Twixt Want and Scorn she walked forlorn, 

And nothing could avail. 

No mercy now can clear her brow 
For this world's peace to pray; 

For, as love's wild prayer dissolved in air, 
Her woman's heart gave way! 

But the sin forgiven by Christ in heaven 
By man is cursed alway! 

— Nathaniel Parker Willis. 



THE OLD BACHELOR. 



s^i E is portly, but very erect, 

fl And always — to somewhat 



di- 



gress — 
Artistic, and quite circumspect 

When it comes to a question of dress; 
A lover of whist and of chess 



And a little inclined to be gay. 

Yet I pity him, nevertheless — 
The old bachelor over the way. 

For I know when his life I dissect. 
There is lack of the wifely caress, 



344 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL. 



No children around him collect, 
His home-coming nightly to bless; 
And to scan him again I confess . 

He's a trifle inclined to be gay, ■ 
In spite of his social success — 

The old bachelor over the way. 

And I feel my surmise is correct, 

When I look at him closely and guess 

That when he takes time to reflect 
He misses the true happiness; 



For the lack of a home will depress, 
And his boyhood was happy, they say; 

I fancy that dreams must oppress 
The old bachelor over the way. 

ENVOY. 

What, married? This morning, no less, 
For who shall King Cupid gainsay? 

Well, well, he is in for distress — 
The old bachelor over the way. 

— Ernest McGaffey. 



LOOK ALOFT. 



The following lines were suggested by 
an anecdote, said to have been related by 
Dr. Godman, of a ship-boy, who, about to 
fall from the rigging, was only saved by 
the mate's exclamation, "Look aloft, you 
lubber!" 

N the tempest of life when the wave 
and the gale 
Are around and above, if thy footing should 

fail— 
If thine eye should grow dim, and thy 

caution depart — 
Look aloft and be firm, and be fearless of 
heart. 

If the friend who embraced in prosperity's 

glow. 
With a smile for each joy and a tear for 

each woe, 
Should betray thee when sorrows, like 

clouds, are arrayed. 
Look aloft to the friendship which never 

shall fade. 



Should the visions, which hope spreads in 

light to thine eye, 
Like the tints of the rainbow, but brighten 

to fly, 
Then turn, and, through tears of repentant 

regret. 
Look aloft to the sun that is never to set. 

Should those who are dearest, the son of 

thy heart, 
The wife of thy bosom, in sorrow depart, 
Look aloft from the darkness and dust of 

the tomb. 
To that soil where affection is ever in 

bloom. 

And oh! when death comes, in terror to 

cast 
His fears on the future, his pall on the 

past. 
In that moment of darkness, with hope in 

thy heart. 
And a smile in thine eye, look aloft, and 

depart. 

— Jonathan Lawrence, Jr. 



LOVE'S PHILOSOPHY 

I HE fountains mingle with the river, 



|<^^ And the rivers with the ocean; 
The winds of heaven mix forever, 
With a sweet emotion; 



Nothing in the world is single; 

All things by a law divine 
In one another's being mingle: — 

Why not I with thine? 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL. 



345 



See! the mountains kiss higli heaven, 
And the waves clasp one another; 

No sister flower would be forgiveii 
If it disdained its brother; 



And the sunlight clasps the earth, 
And the moonbeams kiss the sea: 

What are all these hissings worth 
If thou kiss not me? 

— Percy Bysshe Shelley. 



A SONG OF LONG AGO. 



SONG of long ago ; 
Vs\ Sing it lightly — sing it low — 
Sing it softly — like the lisping of the lips 

we used to know. 
When our baby-laughter spilled 
From the glad hearts ever filled 
With music blithe as robin ever trilled ! 

Let the fragrant summer breeze. 

And the leaves of locust-trees. 

And the apple buds and blossoms, and the 

wings of honey-bees, 
All palpitate with glee, 
Till the happy harmony 
Brings back each childish joy to you and 

me. 

Let the eyes of fancy turn 
Where the tumbled pippins burn 
Like embers in the orchard's lap of tangled 
gfrass and fern — 



There let the old path wind 
In and out, and on behind, 
The cider-press that chuckles as we grind. 

Blend in the song the moan 

Of the dove that grieves alone, 

And the wild whir of the locust, and the 

bumble's drowsy drone ; 
And the low of cows that call 
Through the pasture-bars when all 
The landscape fades away at evenfall. 

Then, far away and clear, ' 

Through the dusky atmosphere. 

Let the wailing of the killdee be the only 

sound we hear ; 
Oh, sad and sweet and low. 
As the memory may know. 
Is the glad pathetic song of Long Ago ! 
— James Whit comb Riley. 



THE FOREGROUND. 




E all can paint, in a sort of a way, 
f With a daub of blue or a streak of 
gray. 
The distant hills — like an A. R. A. — 

The miles more round ; 
But that which puzzles the tyro brave, 
And makes him shrink like the meanest 

slave, 
And bids him long for Oblivion's wave, 
Is the Foreground! 

There are tricks of the trade we can work 
with ease, 



On our masterly sky, or our far-off trees ; 
You fancy you could, in our stretching seas, 

Swing an oar round ; 
But our rocks, our grass, our roads, and our 

rails, 
That we put in front — or our boats and their 

sails — 
Why, the strongest and kindliest fancy fails 
At our foreground ! 

'Tis something like that in the Pictwre of 
Life; 



346 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL. 



We can rub in the Past with a broad palette- 
knife; 

But the Present is bitter, with labor and 
strife, 

As is horehound ; 

We sweat at it, strain at it, grunt at our toil ; 



The future is easy ; our colors and oil 
Go sweetly' on that ; but heavens ! what 
moil 

Is our foreground ! 

— Bernard McEvoy. 



BEAUTIFUL HANDS. 



YOUR hands — they are strangely 
fair ! 

Fair — for the jewels that sparkle there — 
Fair — for the witchery of the spell 
What ivory keys alone can tell ; 
But when their delicate touches rest 
Here in my own do I love them best. 
As I clasp with eager acquisitive spans 
My glorious treasure of beautiful hands ! 

Marvelous — wonderful — beautiful hands ! 
They can coax roses to bloom in the strand.-; 
Of your brown tresses ; and ribbons will 

twine, 
Under mysterious touches of thine, 
Into such knots as entangle the soul 
And fetter the heart under such a control 
As only the strength of my love under- 
stands — 
My passionate love for your beautiful 
hands. 



As I remember the first fair touch 
Of those beautiful hands that I love 

much, 
I seem to thrill as I then was thrilled, 
Kissinsf the sflove that I found unfilled — 



so 



When I met your gaze, and the queenly 

bow, 
As you said to me, laughingly, "Keep it 

now !" 
And dazed and alone in a dream I stand. 
Kissing this ghost of your beautiful hand. 

When first I loved, in the long ago. 
And held your hand as I told you so — 
Pressed and caressed it, and gave it a kiss, 
And said, "I could die for a hand like this !" 
Little I dreamed love's fulness yet 
Had to ripen when eyes were wet 
And prayers were vain in, their wild de- 
mands 
For one warm touch of your beautiful 
hands. 

Beautiful Hands ! O Beautiful Hands ! 
Could you reach out of the alien lands 
Where you are lingering, and give me, to- 
night. 
Only a touch — were it ever so light — 
My heart were soothed, and my weary 

brain 
Would lull itself into rest again ; 
For there is no solace the world commands 
Like the caress of your beautiful hands. 
— James Whitconih Rilcv. 



THE SAILOR'S SWEETHEART. 



Y love he is a sailor lad, 
He says he loves me true 
For all my wealth of golden hair- 
Because my eves are blue ; 



And w^hile he is upon the sea, 
Whose raging billows roar, 

The village lads coming wooing m 
At least some half a score. 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL. 



347 



I list to what the laddies say ; 

Of smiles they have no lack ; 
And though I say nor yea nor nay, 

1 think I'll wait for Jack. 



There's Donald and there's Robin Grey, 

Oh, you should hear them sigh ! 
I smile at them and only say 

I'll answer by and by. 
They bring me trinkets from the fair, 

And ribbons bright, like this. 
And oftentimes they humbly kneel 

And plead me for a kiss ; 
And then I turn and look away 

Across the billows black, 

THE MEN 

p)| ERE'S to the men who lose! 
I f I What though their work be e'er so 
nobly planned 
And watched with zealous care. 
No glorious halo crowns their efforts grand ; 
Contempt is failure's share. 

Here's to the men who lose ! 
If Triumph's easy smile our struggles greet. 

Courage is easy then ; 
The king is he who, after fierce defeat, 

Can up and fight again. 

Here's to the men who lose ! 
The ready plaudits of a fawning world 
Ring sweet in victor's ears ; 



rVnd softly to myself I say, 
"i think I'll wait for Jack." 

Ye bonnie stars, shine out, shine out ; 

Ye billows, cease your war ; 
Oh, south wind, rise and blow my love 

Within the harbor bar ! 
No other lad can woo as he; 

My smiles are shallow smiles. 
For oh, my heart is on the sea. 

Amid the western isles; 
And though I let the laddies woo, 

I give no wooing back; 
I only do as lassies do. 

The while I wait for Jack. 

— Samuel Minturn Peck. 

WHO LOSE. 

The vanquished's banners never are un- 
furled — 
For them there sound no cheers. 

Here's to the men who lose ! 
The touchstone of true worth is not suc- 
cess; 
There is a higher test — 
Though fate may darkly frown, onward we 
press. 
And bravely do one's best. 

Here's to the men who lose ! 
It is the vanquished praises that I sing. 

And this the toast I choose : 
"A hard-fought failure is a noble thing — 

Here's luck to those who lose !" 

— Georcre H. Broadhurst. 



THE UNREMEMBERED HARVESTER. 

MONG earth's brown-armed reapers 
HA% came 
One whom those toilers held in shame. 

All harvest-time, with idle hands. 

He watched them reap their burdened lands. 

They knew him not, though he, 'twas said. 
Strange writings in the grass-blades read ; 



And, resting weary scythe and rake, 
They one unto the other spake : 

"We till the soil, and sow our wheat ; 
They who hunger here may eat ; 

"Yet this man's only harvest seems 
To be, not bread, but idle dreams. 



348 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL. 



"His childish flowers he carries home, 
While we, whose sweat makes rich the loam, 

Earn here such gleanings as be ours ; 
But he — he seeks for simple flowers ! 

"Let them who mock God's seasons thus 
Ask neither roof nor bread of us!" 

So they, when all their day was done, 
Turned homeward toward the setting sun; 

And down the fields of sleeping grain 
Sang o'er their harvest-songs again; 

Retelling how God's reapers fed 

The world, since man must live by bread ; 

While mourned, far down the murmurous 

bush. 
One pensive-hearted hermit-thrush. 

And unto him they held in shame 
Their song, but not their gladness, came. 

For though he flung abroad his grain, 
To him it came not back again. 

Though he his goodly store had sown, 
'Twas not for him to reap his own ; 

Since he it was who would have fed 
The world with song, as they with bread. 

Fie wrought in his enchanted rhyme 
The arladness of their harvest-time. 



Their joy and sadness, hope and grief, 
In song he garnered sheaf by sheaf. 

Yet while he sang so well to rest 
Their weary hearts, in his own breast 
He nursed the sorrows they had known, 
And wept their tears, and not his own. 

And in the night he fared abroad 
As their interpreter to God. 

For yet at times strange smouldering fires. 
When old unquenchable desires 
In their distracted hearts grew strong, 
'Twas he who solaced them with song. 

But they saw not, and at his feet 

They flung a crust — since man must eat. 

And he, though they had even thrown 
Him all the grain the world had grown. 
He knew too w-ell of old 'twas said 
No man shall live by only bread. 

For they, he knew, with all their lands, 
Held, oh ! so little in their hands. 

So little and so much, this grain 
Men gleaned and sowed and reaped again. 
With still one old strange hunger they. 
For all their loaves, could not allay. 

But he, from God's own board had caught 
Those precious crumbs men gathered not. 

And he, since they had only wheat, 
Laid bare his heart, and they did eat. 

— Arthur J. Stringer. 



THE CURE'S PROGRESS. 



ONSIEUR the Cure down the street 
Comes with his kind old face — 
With his coat worn bare, and his straggling 
hair. 
And his green umbrella case. 

You may see him pass by the little "Grande- 
Place," 



And the tiny, "Hotel-de-Ville" ; 
He smiles as he goes to the fleuriste Rose, 
And the pompier Theophile. 

He turns, as a rule, through the "Marche" 
cool, 
Where the noisy fishwives call ; 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL. 



349 



And his compliment pays to the "Belle 
Therese," 
As she knits in her dusky stall. 

There's a letter to drop at the blacksmith's 
shop, 

And Toto, the locksmith's niece, 
Has jubilant hopes, for the Cure gropes 

In his tails for a "pain d'epice." 

There's a little dispute with a merchant of 
fruit, 

Who is said to be heterodox, 
That will ended be with a "Ma foi, oui!" 

And a pinch from the Cure's box. 



There is also a word that no one heard 

To the furrier's daughter, too ; 
And a pale cheek fed with a flickering red, 

And a "Bon Dieu garde, M'sieu !" 

But a grander way for the Sous-Prefet, 
And a bow for Ma'am'selle Anne ; 

And a mock "off -hat" to the Notary's cat, 
And a nod to the Sacristan ; 

Forever through life the Cure goes 

With a smile on his kind old face — 
With his coat worn bare, and his straggling 
hair. 
And his green umbrella case. 

— Austin Dobson. 



GOD'S LITTLE GIRL, 



SHE left her home in the starry ways, 
And reached our arms in the x\pril 
days. 
We thought to keep her and hold her there. 
And our little girl we called the dear. 



One pleasant eve when the sun had dipped 
Out of our sight, and the stars had slipped 
Silently back to their wonted ways. 
She turned her face with a wistful gaze 



Up to the blue of the arching skies ; 
We knew by the look in her pretty eyes 
And the smile that brightened her small 

face so, 
It was time for God's little girl to go. 

A kiss we dropped on her curly head, 
"Sweet little dear, good-bye," we said; 
Then unafraid, tho' the way was dim, 
God's little girl went back to Him. 

— Bertha Gemeaux Davis. 



FAITH. 



HEY tell me that the earth is round, 
And not the plain it seems to be ; 
The sky rests not upon the ground, 
But spreads in grand immensity i 
I only know yon woods and hills. 

And this old orchard by our home, 
The village road, the meadow rills. 
And over these a vaulted dome. 

They say the ocean, vast and deep. 

Is surging round earth's farthest shore, 

And that the rills and rivers creep 
Forever on to meet its roar. 



I only know the sea is His, 

Who the creation's objects planned ; 
And there can nothing be amiss 

That's held in an Almighty hand. 

Enough to contemplate the worth, 

The height, the depth, of that great love 
That stretches ever o'er the earth, 

Unto the utmost parts thereof; 
Enough to know He guides yon rill 

To meet, it may be, the wide sea, " 
Who gave the m.agic "Peace, be still," 

That calmed the waves of Galilee, 



350 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL. 



They tell me that the future veils 
Grave mysteries from you and me, 

And that the sin of Eve entails 
God's vengeance through eternity. 



I only know conflicting creeds 

Contending men have striven to prove ; 
God knows our nature and our needs, 

And I believe that God is love. 

— Frank Laws on. 



THE SNOWSHOER. 



WNDER the moon and the stars, 
And over the round, white hill, 
The snowshoer, singing, strides. 

And the heart of the world lies still. 

The north-lights flash in the north 
Like Olaf 's cloak, tossed red ; 

The drifts are moulded and white 
Like the grave-clothes of the dead. 

But the trapper, Pierre Letonne, 
Sings, as he hurries along ; 

And a little wind in the spruces 
Mimics his lilted song. 

"Wyes like the heart of the sea. 

Hands like the foam on the shore — 

Oh, sweet, my queen, Vivette, 

Do you wait for me at the door?" 

A cry comes out of the stillness, 
But the lover gives no heed. 

"Vivette, the trail is merry, 
For I follow where kisses lead ! 

"The miles slip by, forgotten, 

For you, and the town are there ; 



The warmth of the high, red windows — 
The warmth of your golden hair." 

A cry comes out of the forest. 

The snowshoer turns his head. 
He sees the long white drifts 

Like the grave-clothes of the dead ; 

And he hears, at the edge of the wood, 
Mingled, and mad, and shrill, 

The cry of the great gray wolves — 
The wolves who gather to kill. 

The snowshoer bends and runs 
And his brave lips shape a prayer. 

He thinks of the warm red windows, 
And the sheen of her regal hair. 

He prays for her dear, white hands, 
And her eyes, like the heart of the sea. 

The gray wolves leap, and leap 

And the north-lights clash in their glee ! 

Under the moon and the stars 
His brave song rings no more ; 

The lights at the windows are dead 
And a shadow comes to the door. 

— Theodore Roberts. 



THIS CANADA OF OURS. 



O ye know the mountain meadow 
Where the sunshine lingers long; 
Where the robin rears its nestling 

And pours forth its low love-song? 
Where the grizzly roams in spring-time ; 

And the bighorn sports in play ; 
And the brilliant purple aster 
Flings its petals to the day? 



Do ye know the brown reef stretching 

Where the kelp sea-serpents twist ; 
And the blue-white bergs from Greenland 

Sail so ghostly through the mist? 
Where the eider drake is mating ; 

And the curlew calleth clear; 
And the winds from dusk to dawning 

Seem a diree sune o'er a bier? 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL. 



351 



Do ye know the flaming forest 

In the dead of winter's night ; 
And the shifting, sinuous signals 

Of the nimbus northern Hght ? 
When the shadows of the spruces 

Fill with formless, fearful things, 
And the horned owl of the woodland 

Saileth by on whisper-wings ? 

Do ye know the arctic summer 

And its laughsome, lusty life ; 
When the shadows slant in midnight 

On the caribou at strife ? 
Where the tender tints of aspen. 

In a woof most deftly spun. 
Shame the gaudy, tropic glory 

Of the glaring tropic sun? 

Do ye know the wild wave lashing 

On the land-locked ocean shore, 
When the birch-bark of the fisher 

Dares to venture forth no more ? 
When the trout is on the shallows ; 

And the maple leaf is red ; 
And the paddle and the tomp-line 

Yield to snowshoe and to sled ? 

Do ye know the prairie panting 
In the torrid noonday heat ; 

When the air is full of fragrance 
From the roses at your feet? 



Where the cattle in the foothills 

Wade knee-deep in grain and grass ; 

And the wiry wheat is nodding 
As the sighs of summer pass ? 

Do ye know the wondrous west-strand 

With its fiords and headlands bold ; 
And its wealth of mine and metal ; 

And its forests dense and old ? 
Where the salmon in the tideway 

Swim in never-ending throng ; 
And the wavelet to the beaches 

Croons a sleep, slumber song? 

Say ye so, your foot has trodden 

The long, weary, winding way ; 
In the depth of arctic winter 

Ye have watched the flashes play; 
On the marge of either ocean 

Ye have heard the sea- fowl cry ; 
And the glamour of the forest 

Must be o'er ye till ye die ! 

Then stand firmly in the vanguard 

Of the hopeful, patriot band ; 
For your soul has learned the legend 

Of this fair Canadian land. 
And the scenes your memory conjures 

Are the gifts of heavenly powers 
That would have ye know the meaning 

Of "This Canada of Ours !" 

—Charles A. Bramble. 



NIAGARA FALLS. 

(WRITTEN BY ABRAHAM LINCOLN.) 



The following article on Niagara Falls, in 
Mr. Lincoln's handwriting, was found 
among his papers after his death : 

lAGARA FALLS! By what mys- 
terious power is it that millions and 
millions are drawn from all parts of the 
world to gaze upon Niagara Falls? There 
is no mystery about the thing itself. Every 



effect is just as any intelligent man, know- 
ing the causes, would anticipate without 
seeing it. If the water moving onward in a 
great river reaches a point where there is 
a perpendicular jog of a hundred feet in 
descent in the bottom of the river, it is plain 
the water will have a violent and continuous 
plunge at that point. It is also plain, the 
water, thus plunging, will foam and roar. 



352 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL. 



and send up a mist continuously, in which 
last, during sunshine, there will be perpet- 
ual rainbows. The mere physical of Niag- 
ara Falls is only this. Yet this is really a 
very small part of that world's wonder. Its 
power to excite reflection and emotion is its 
great charm. The geologist will demon- 
strate that the plunge, or fall, was once at 
Lake Ontario, and has worn its way back to 
its present position ; he will ascertain how 
fast it is wearing now, and so get a basis 
for determining how long it has been wear- 
ing back from Lake Ontario, and finally 
demonstrate by it that this world is at least 
fourteen thousand years old. A philosopher 
of a slightly different turn will say, 'Niag- 
ara Falls is only the lip of the basin out of 
which pours all the surplus water which 
rains down on two or three hundred thou- 
sand square miles of the earth's surface.' 
He will estimate with approximate accuracy 
that five hundred thousand tons of water 
fall with their full weight a distance of a 
hundred feet each minute — thus exerting a 



force equal to the lifting of the same weight, 
through the same space, in the same 
time. 

"But still there is more. It calls up the 
indefinite past. When Columbus first 
sought this continent — when Christ suffered 
on the cross — when Moses led Israel 
through the Red Sea — ^nay, even when 
Adam first came from the hand of his 
Maker; then, as now, Niagara was roar- 
ing here. The eyes of that species of ex- 
tinct giants whose bones fill the mounds of 
America have gazed on Niagara, as ours do 
now. Contemporary with the first race of 
men, and older than the first man, Niagara 
is strong and fresh to-day as ten thousand 
years ago. The Mammoth and Mastodon, 
so long dead that fragments of their mon- 
strous bones alone testify that they ever 
lived, have gazed on Niagara — in that long, 
long time never still for a single moment 
(never dried), never froze, never slept, 
never rested." 



WALKIN' HOME WITH MARYo 



I HE moon was silver-clear that night, 
The snow w^as pure and sparklin'. 
And trees and bushes 'gainst the white 

Was bots of shadder, dark'nin'. 
Each fence rail had a jewelled load, 

Each twig was gemmed and glary, 
And I, along the pastur' road. 
Was walkin' home with Mary. 

So still, a dog, two mile away, 
Could reach us with his howlin' ; 

The tumblin' breakers in the bay 
Was plain as thunder growlin'. 

My clumsy bootheels' crunch and squeak 
Beside her step so airy. 

Seemed sayin', "Now's your time to speak ; 
You're walkin' home with Mary." 



The fur-off breakers lent their help 

By boomin' "Now, young feller!" 
And all that dog could find to yelp 

Was "Tell her ! Tell her ! Tell her !" 
And every crackin' bit of ice 

Seemed like a kind of fairy, 
A-givin' me the same advice, 

When walkin' home with Mary. 

And so, I swallered down my throat — 

'Twarn't greatly to my credit, 
With all the airth to take my part — 

But, anyhow, I said it. 
And then that dog shet off his bark ; 

There warn't a breaker, nary ; 
The hull wide world stood still to hark 

And hear the word from Mary. 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL. 



353 



She answered, and the breakers fell 
And roared congratulation ; 

That blessed dog let out a yell 
That must a-woke the nation. 



'Twas thirty year or more ago, 

Yet still it makes me scary 
To think, what if Fd heerd a "No!" 

When walkin' home with Mary. 

— Joe Lincoln. 



THE KING'S FLAGON. 



I HE King of Thule had a cup 
From which he never used to sup, • 
A noble flagon ! 
In high relief on either shield 
A dreadful combat was revealed 
Where doughty knights their falchions 
wield 

Against a dragon ! 

And, oh, it w^as a fearsome beast ! 
Alive, it measured rods at least ! 

'Twould make vou gulp, sure ! 
Each eye was fitted with a jewel. 
The thing could almost see the duel, 
And, oh, its glance was deadly ciuel, 

A trick of sculpture ! 

So fiercely showed the knotted claws, 
The spiky teeth, the horrid jaws. 

The scales so sheeny ; 
So grandly strode each warring knight, 
Each link of maillet graved aright 
You would have thought the goldsmith 
wight 

A new Cellini. 

For he had breathed the combat's rage, 
And fixed upon his golden page 

Each living gesture, 
And, then, to prove a milder art — • 
No doubt the work was from his heart — 
The man had chosen to impart 

A leafy treasure ! 

But that is neither here nor there! 



Tis not for us to tell his care 
Who did the carving. 

Perhaps it was a handsome blade. 

The pet of matron and of maid ; 

Perhaps the wretch was never paid 
And died a-starving! 

IL 

That as it may ! The King set store 
Upon the cup for something more 

Than art or mintage ; 
For Love and Death did there combine 
To dulcify the sharpest wine, 
And make the dullest liquor shine 

A radiant vintage ! 

It stood to him for all the bliss 
That ceremonious monarchs miss, 

Constrained by fashion ; 
'Twas given to him by his spouse, 
And though a servile world allows 
A king some scope, he kept his vows 

With loyal passion. 

The minstrels sang her winsome grace. 
The beauty of her form and face. 

Her hair so Titian ; 
Her eyes full orbed and dewy bright, 
Her tiny hands and lily white, 
Her twinkling footstep fairy light. 

Yet quite patrician ! 

All this and more was in their lays, 
And Thule paid them for their praise. 
In brave largesses; 



354 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL. 



And in a world, with hatred rife, 
The King of Thule loved his wife, 
And loved her truly all her life 
And her caresses. 

And ever, at the evening hour, 
The fiagon plenished in her bower. 

The monarch sought her ; 
She kissed the cup for him to quaff, 
He kissed his sweetheart with a laugh, 
Then drained the posset to the drafT 

As it were water! 

IIL 

Such was their wont until tlie war 
Removed him to a distant shore 

And much afifrayed her ; 
For he was brave as he was true. 
And in the van his pennon flew, 
So much his anxious mistress knew 

Of her Crusader ! 

But one dark day a herald sped 

To speak the news "The King is dead ! 

Alack to hear it ! 
I got it in the Cairo mart ; 
The bowyer said a Paythan dart 
Had found the monarch's mighty heart 

And loosed his spirit !" 

A lily seared by winter's touch, 
A cushat in the falcon's clutch. 

So was her sorrow ; 
The stricken lady made no moan, 
She bore a mortal grief alone, 
And, in her bower, they found her prone 

Upon the morrow ! 

E'en while her funeral dirges rolled 
Into the courtyard caracoled 

The King's Esquire ! 
"God save the Queen !" he louted low. 
"The King of Thule bids her know 
He lives and vanquished his foe 

With carnage dire!" 



Thus, though the bruit was proven false 
The lady slept among the vaults 

And mural brasses ; 
Her beauty, marbled on her tomb, 
Shone sadly in the abbey gloom 
Midst holy chants and censer's fume 

And solemn masses. 

And far away midst war's alarm 
The tidings steeled the monarch s arm 

To vengeful madness ; 
And pondering his Queen's demise. 
Black fancies brooded in his eyes 
And craved a bloody sacrifice 

Unto his sadness. 

But when, at length, the King returned 
And sought the tomb and her inurned, 

He rued his folly ; 
For gazing on her hallowed rest 
The pain was softened in his breast 
And chastened grief his heart oppressed 

And melancholy. 

And ever at the evening hour 
He offered in her lonely bower 

A Pater Noster. 
The cup, her sweetest souvenir, 
Oft showed the traces of a tear 
And he would pray, though none might hear 

He had not lost her. 

And when, at last, he came to die, 
He bade his courtiers lay him nigh 

The cup he treasured. 
"Now fill it to the brim!" he said 
"I drink to her ere I be sped. 
And though the years have been as lead, 

'Twas God who measured! 

"I drinfc to her in realms above ! 

My Queen, my wife, my only love !" 

Naught further said he. 
For having drunk his loyal toast. 
This faithful King gave up the ghost 
And passed unto the Heavenly Host 

And to his Lady. 

— Franklin Gadsby. 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL. 



355 



MANDALAY. 



Y the old Moulmein Pagoda, lookin' 
eastward to the sea, 
There's a Burma gfirl a-settin', an' I know 

she thinks o' me ; 
For the wind is in the pahn trees, an' the 

temple bells they say : 
"Come you back, you British soldier ; come 
you back to Mandalay !" 
Come you back to Mandalay, 
Where the old Flotilla lay; 
Can't you 'ear their paddles cliunkin' 

from Rangoon to Mandalay ? 
On the road to Mandalay, 
Where the flyin' fishes play. 
An' the dawn comes up like thunder 
outer China 'crost the bay ! 

'Er petticut was yaller an' 'er little cap was 

green, 
An' 'er name was Supi-yaw-lat — jes' the 

same as Theebaw's Queen, 
An' I seed her fust a-smokin' of a whackin' 

white cheroot, 
An' a-wastin' Christian kisses on an' 'eathen 
idol's foot; 
Bloomin' idol made o' mud — 
Wot they called the Great Gawd 

Budd— 
Plucky lot she cared for idols when I 

kissed 'er where she stud ! 
On the road to Mandalay — 

When the mist was on the rice fields an' the 

sun was droppin' slow. 
She'd git her little banjo an' she'd sing 

"Kul-lalo-lo !" 
With 'er arm upon my shoulder an' 'er 

cheek agin my cheek 
We useter watch the steamers an' the hatbis 

pilin' teak. 
'Elephints a-pilin' teak 
In the sludgy, squdgy creek. 



Where the silence 'ung that 'eavy you 

was arf afraid to speak ! 
On the road to Mandalay, 

But that's all shove be'ind me — long ago an' 

fur away. 
An' there ain't no 'buses runnin' from the 

Benk to Mandalay ; 
An' Pm learnin' 'ere in London, what the 

ten-year sodger tells ; 
"If you's 'eard the East a-callin', why you 
won't 'eed nothin' else." 
No ! you won't 'eed nothin' else 
But them spicy garlic smells 
An' the sunshine and the palm trees an' 

the tinky temple bells ! 
On the road to Mandalay — 

I am sick o' wastin' leather on these gutty 

pavin' stones, 
An' the blasted Henglish drizzle wakes the 

fever in my bones ; 
Tho' I walks with fifty 'ousemaids outer 

Chelsea to the Strand, 
An' they talks a lot o' lovin', but wot do they 
understand ? 
Beefy- face an' grubby 'and — 
Law ! Wot do they understand ? 
I've a neater, sweeter maiden in a 

cleaner, greener land ! 
On the road to Mandalay — 

Ship we somewheres east of Suez, where the 

best is like the worst, 
Where there aren't no Ten Commandants, 

an' a man can raise a thirst ; 
For the temple bells are callin', and it's there 

that I would be — 
By the old Moulmein Pagoda, lookin' lazy 

at the sea ; 
On the road to Mandalay, 
Where the old Flotilla lay, 



356 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL. 



With our sick beneath the awnings 

when we went to Mandalay ! 
Where the flyin' fishes play, 



An' the dawn comes up hke thunder 
outer China 'crost the bay ! 

— Rudyard Kipling. 



ST. PATRICK'S BIRTHDAY. 

(A FAVORITE RECITATION OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN'S.) 



fHE first factional fight in old Ireland, 
they say, 
Was all on account of St. Patrick's birth- 
day; 
It was somewhere about midnight without 

any doubt, 
And certain it is, it made a great rout. 

On the eighth day of March, as some people 

say, 
St. Patrick at midnight he first saw the 

day; 
While others assert 'twas the ninth he was 

born — 
'Twas all a mistake— between midnight and 

morn. 

Some blamed the baby, some blamed the 

clock ; 
Some blamed the doctor, some the crowing 

cock. 
With all these close questions sure no one 

could know, 
Whether the babe was too fast or the clock 

was too slow. 



Some fought for the eighth, for the ninth 

some would die ; 
He who wouldn't see right would have a 

black eye. 
At length these two factions so positive 

grew, 
They each had a birthday, and Pat he had 

two. 

Till Father Mulcahay who showed them 
their sins. 

He said none could have two birthdays but 
as twins. 

"Now, boys, don't be fighting for the eight 
or the nine ; 

Don't quarrel so always, now why not com- 
bine?" 

Combine eight with nine. It is the mark ; 
Let that be the birthday. Amen ! said the 

clerk. 
So all got blind drunk, which completed 

their bliss, 
And they've kept up the practice from that 

day to this. 



AS SLOW OUR SHIP. 



S slow our ship her foamy track 
j^^ Against the wind was cleaving. 
Ne'er trembling pennant still look'd back 

To that dear Isle 'twas leaving. 
So loath we part from all we love. 

From all the links that bind us; 
To turn our hearts as on we rove. 

To those we've left behind us. 

When, round the bowl of vanish'd years 
We talk, with joyous seeming, — 



With smiles that might as well be tears, 
So faint, so sad their beaming; 

While mem'ry brings us back again 
Each early tie that twined us, 

Oh, sweet's the cup that circles then 
To those we've left behind us. 

And when, in other climes, we meet 
Some isle, or vale enchanting. 

Where all looks flow'ry, wild and sweet, 
And naught but love is wanting; 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL 



357 



We think how great had been our bliss, 
If Heaven had but assigned us 

To live and die in scenes hke this, 
With some we've left behind us! 

As trav'lers oft look back at eve, 
When eastward darkly going, 



To gaze upon that light they leave 
Still faint behind them glowing, — 

So, when the close of pleasure's day 
To gloom hath near consign'd us, 

We turn to catch one fading ray 
Of joy that's left behind us. 

— Thomas Moore. 



OH! BAIRNIES, CUDDLE DOON. 



I HE bairnies cuddle doon at nicht 
Wi' muckle faucht an' din, 
"O, try an' sleep, ye waukrife rogues, 

Your faither's comin' in." 
They never heed a word I speak, 

I try to gie a frown. 
But aye I hap them up an' say 
"O, bairnies, cuddle doon." 

Wee Jamie wi' the curly heid, 

He aye sleeps next the wa'. 
Bangs up and cries 'T want a piece," 

The rascal starts them a'. 
I rin and fetch them pieces, drinks, 

They stop a wee the soun' 
Then draw the blankets up an' cry 

"Noo, weanies, cuddle doon." 

But ere five minutes gang, wee Rab 

Cries out frae 'neath the claes, 
"Mither, make Tam gie owre at ance. 

He's kittlin' wi' his taes." 
The mischief in that Tam for tricks 

He'd both half the toon, 
But aye I hap them up an' say 

"O, bairnies, cuddle doon." 



At length they hear their faither's fit, 

An' as he steeks the door, 
They turn their faces to the wa' 

While Tam pretends to snore. 
"Hae a' the weans been gude?" he asks, 

As he pits aft" his shoon. 
"The bairnies, John, are in their beds 

An' lang since cuddled doon." 

And just before we bed oorsels 

We look at oor wee lambs, 
Tam has his airm roun' wee Rab's neck. 

An' Rab his airm roun' Tam's. 
I lift wee Jamie up the bed 

An' as I straik each croon, 
I whisper till my heart fills up, 

"O, bairnies, cuddle doon." 

The bairnies cuddle doon at nicht, 

Wi' mirth that's dear to me. 
But soon the big warl's cark an' care 

Will quaten doon their glee. 
Yet come what may to ilka ane 

May He who rules aboon, 
Aye whisper, though their pows be bauld. 

"O, bairnies, cuddle doon." 

— Anonymoiis. 



THE MAN WITH THE HOE. 



OWED by the weight of centuries he 
leans 

Upon his hoe and gazes on the ground. 
The emptiness of ages on his face. 
And on his back the burden of the world. 
Who made him dead to rapture and despair. 



A thing that gneves not and that never 

hopes, 
Stolid and stunned, a brother to the ox ? 
Who loosened and let down his brutal jaw ? 
Whose was the hand that slanted back this 

brow? 



358 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL. 



Whose breath blew out the Hght within this 
brain ? 

Is this the thing the Lord God made and 

gave 
To have dominion over sea and land ; 
To trace the stars and search the heavens 

for power ; 
To feel the passion of Eternity ? 
Is this the Dream He dreamed who shaped 

the suns 
And pillared the blue firmament with light ? 
Down all the stretch of Hell to its last gulf 
There is no shape more terrible than this — 
More tongued with censure of the world's 

blind greed — 
More filled with signs and portents for the 

soul — 
More fraught with menace to the universe. 

What gulfs between him and the seraphim ! 

Slave of the wheel of labor, what to him 

Are Plato and the swing of Pleiades ? 

What the long reaches of the peaks of song, 

The rift of dawn, the reddening of the rose ? 

Through this dread shape the suffering ages 
look ; 

Time's tragedy is in that aching stoop ; 

Through this dread shape humanity be- 
trayed. 



I*lundered, profaned and disinherited. 
Cries protest to the Judges of the World, 
A protest that is also prophecy. 

O masters, lords and rulers in all lands, 
Is this the handiwork you gave to God, 
This monstrous thing distorted and souv- 
quenched ? 

How will you ever straighten up this shape ; 
Give back the upward looking and the light ; 
Rebuild in it the music and the dream ; 
Touch it again with immortality ; 
Make right the immemorial infamies, 
Perfidious wrongs, immedicable woes? 

O masters, lords and rulers in all lands, 
How will the Future reckon with this Man ? 
How answer his brute question in that hour 
When whirlwinds of rebellion shake the 

world ? 
How will it be with kingdoms and with 

kings — 
With those who shaped him to the thing he 

is — 
When this dumb Terror shall reply to God 
After the silence of the centuries? 

— Edivin Markham. 



THE MAN WITH THE HOE. 



(NOT BY 

OR centuries the waves of greed and 
fierce ambition 
Have beat, and broke about him, 
Eng-ulfinp: countless millions of his fellow 

men; 
Yet, steadfast and serene amid the howling 

storm he stands. 
He stands 
And leans upon his hoe. 

Contentment shining in his ruddy face, 
The marks of intellect upon his brow, 



MARKHAM.) 

A living monument to truth and honesty, 
At peace with God and all mankind. 

And as he leans, he reads 

In tender plant and ripening grain ; 

In mountain and in valley, 

In sunshine and in shower. 

The wondrous story of creation ; 

Within his heart, a promise, and z. prayer. 

"What," indeed, "to him is Plato?" 
Who revels daily in the grandest work of 
all,— 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL. 



359 



The glorious book of nature, 
Written by the hand of God. 
"And what to him the reaches of the peaks 
of song?" 



He has heard the soughing breeze 

Make melody among the swaying boughs ; 

He has listened to the song of rippling 

brook, 
The chorus of the forest choirs has charmed 

his ear. 
But, sweetest, softest, tenderest of all, 
Like sweep of angel fingers on the chords 

of love, — 
A symphony of heaven, — 
He has heard his baby's joyous coo. 



"Slave to the wheel of labor?'' 

God gave him labor that he might have 

rest; 
Hate, that he might know love ; 



Winter, that he might see the beauties of 

the spring. 
God g'ave him life, but lest he tire, he sends 

him gentle death. 
He lives and moves, and reigns a King, 
And in yon vine-clad cottage sits enthroned 
His royal consort and his queen. 

This "is the thing God made, and gave 
To have dominion over land and sea." 
And he who breathes foul anarchy upon 

that brain 
To wither it ; 

Who plants the germ of envy in that heart 
To blacken it ; 

Who fans the flame of discontent 
"Into a fierce and roaring sea of flame 
Till earth is strewn with wrecks of homes 
And whirlwinds of rebellion shake the 

v/orld, — " 
How will the future reckon with that man 
After a silence of a century ? 

— American Agriculturist. 



TO SLEEP. 



^p^ O sleep! To sleep! The long bright 
f 1^ day is done. 

And darkness rises from the fallen sun, 
To sleep! to sleep! 

Whate'er thy joys, they vanish with the 
day; 



Whate'er the griefs, in sleep they pass 
away. 

To sleep! to sleep! 

Sleep, mournful heart, and let the past be 

past; 
Sleep, happy soul, all life must sleep at last. 
To sleep! to sleep! 

— Alfred Tennyson. 



THOSE EVENING BELLS. 



HOSE evening bells, those evening 
f^ bells ! 
How many a tale their music tells 
Of youth, and home, and native clime. 
When I last heard their soothing chime. 

Those pleasant hours have passed away, 
And many a heart that then was gay. 



Within the tomb now darkly dwells, 
And hears no more those evening bells. 

And so it will be when I'm gone; 
That tuneful peal will still ring on. 
When other bards shall walk these dells 
And sing your praise, sweet evening bells. 
— Thomas Moore. 



360 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL. 



THE LONG AGO. 



,H, a wonderful stream is the River of 
Time, 

As it flows through the Reahn of Tears, 
With a faultless rhythm and a musical 

rhyme, 
And a broadening sweep and a surge 
sublime 
Ere it blends with the Ocean of Years. 

How the winters are drifting, like flakes of 
snow. 
And the summers like buds between ! 
And the years in the sheaf, hov/ they come 

and they go ! 
On the river's breast, with its ebb and its 
flow, 
As they glide in the shadow and sheen ! 

There's a magical isle up the River of Time, 

Where the softest of airs are playing; 
There's a cloudless sky and a tropical clime. 
And a song as sweet as a vesper chime 
And the Junes with the roses are stray- 
ing. 

The name of that isle is The Long Ago ; 

And we bury our treasures there ; 
There are brows of beauty and bosoms of 
snow ; 



There are heaps of dust — oh, we loved them 
so ! 
There are trinkets and tresses of hair. 

There's a fragment of song that nobody 
sings. 
And part of an infant's prayer. 
There's a lute unswept and a harp without 

strings. 
There are broken vows and pieces of rings. 
And the garments our loved used to wear. 

There are hands that we waved, as the fairy 
shore 
By the mirage is lifted in air, 
And sometimes we hear, through the turbu- 
lent roar. 
Sweet voices we heard in the days gone be- 
fore. 
When the wind down the river is fair. 

Oh, remembered for aye be that beautiful 
isle, 
All the day of our life until night ; 
And when Evening comes, with her beauti- 
ful smile 
And we're closing our eyes to slumber 
awhile, 
May that Greenwood of Soul be in sight ! 
— Benjamin Franklin Taylor. 



THE WEAVER. 



ESIDE the loom of life I stand 
And watch the busy shuttle go; 
The threads I hold within my hand 
Make up the filling; strand on strand 

They slip my fingers through, and so 
This web of mine fills out apace, 
While I stand ever in my place. 

One time the woof is smooth and fine 

And colored with a sunny dye; 
Again the threads so roughly twine 
And weave so darkly line on line 



My heart misgives me. Then would I 
Fain lose this web — begin anew — 
But that, alas! I cannot do. 

Some day the web will all be done. 
The shuttle quiet in its place, 

From out my hold the threads be run; 

And friends at setting of the sun 
Will come to look upon my face. 

And say: "Mistakes she made not fcAV, 

Yet wove perchance as best she knew." 

— Anonymous. 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL. 
JACK'S PLOUGHING. 



361 



UT in the field in the sunshiny weather 
Jack and the farm boy are ploughing 
together. 
The dandelions in bloom by the wall 
Twinkle gayly at Jack ; and the robins call 
From the apple-tree boughs, "Ho, Jack ! 

Look here !" 
While the chipmunks are chattering, "Come, 
Jack, my dear !" 
But Jack keeps on with his ploughing. 

The plough is high, and the dimpled hands 
Must reach for the handles, 'twixt which he 

stands. 
The south wind lifts the loose brown rings 
'Neath the sailor hat with its flying strings. 
And kisses the lips pressed tightly together, 
When out in the field in the sunshiny 
weather, 
Jack lends a hand with the ploughing. 

Up and down the long furrows brown 
He manfully trudges, a tiny frown 
On the smooth, broad brow, so earnest is he. 
"We has such lots of work to do, Jim, hasn't 
we? 



If I didn't help you, now what would you 

do?" 
Says Jim, "Master Jack, if it wasn't for you, 
Pd never be done with the ploughing." 

The sun grows hot, the lazy breeze 

Scarce stirs the boughs of the apple-trees. 

The soft earth clings to the moist little 
hands. 

When, at last, at the end of a furrow, he 
stands 

And looks towards home. "My mamma, I 
guess, 

Will be 'fraid 'thout a man in the house, un- 
less 
I did come home from ploughing." 

Such a dirty boy as runs home at last ! 
Such a dirty boy ! But mamma holds him 

fast, 
And kisses the dimples that come and go. 
And he tells of the morning fun, till lo ! 
The white lids droop o'er the eyes of brown. 
And in the meadows of Slumber-town 
Jack still goes on with his ploughing. 
—Mahelle P. Clapp. 



INDIAN SUMMER. 



^p^HE languid valleys lie asleep, 
f If In a silence calm and deep. 

And -o'er the glen "and sedgy rill, 
A mystic presence comes to brood, 
And veils in haze the far-off wood, 

And robes in purple every hill. 

No butterfly is on the wing. 

And all the birds have ceased to sing. 

But still a charm pervades the scene ; 
A tender look is on the earth 
As though it dreamed of death, or birth. 

And waited patient and serene. 



Coiled in gold the dying trees. 
Recall again sweet memories 

Of summer's fervent flush and glow; 
And down the lane where asters nod. 
The sumach and the golden rod 

Are waving gently to and fro. 

The rabbits scurry in the morn. 
And in the wigwams of the corn 

The tiny field-mice are at play ; 
Nature's mystery fills the air, 
And high and low and everywhere 

It claims the solemn night and day 

— Edivard Wilbur Mason. 



362 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL. 



WOULDN'T YOU? 



fF you had a little brother 
Who was just a perfect muff — 
One who always took to crying 

When you played the least bit rough — 
Don't you think you'd often wonder 
Why one son was not enough ? 
I do„ Tell the truth, now— 
Wouldn't you? 

If you had a grown-up sister 

Who was always in your way ; 
Who would box your ears and scold you 

Forty-'leven times a day- 
Think you'd ever try to square things 
When her best beau came to stay ? 
I do. Tell the truth, now — 
Wouldn't you ? 

If you started off some morning, 
When 'twas boiling hot, for school, 

And the trees all seemed to whisper 
That their shade was nice and cool, 



Do you think you'd try to linger, 
Spite of teacher and the rule? 
I do. Tell the truth, now — 
Wouldn't you? 

If you'd planned to go a-fishing 

With some other boys you knew, 
And your mother calmly told you 

There were chores for you to do- 
Think you'd be a woman-hater 

When you'd grown a foot or two? 
I do. Tell the truth, now — 
Wouldn't you ? 

S'pose you had to have your hands clean. 

Had to keep your shoes both bright, 
Had to chew your dinner slowly, 

Had to part your hair just right — 
Think you'd ever be wishing 
You could die that very night? 
I do. Tell the truth, now — 
Wouldn't you ? 

—Henrietta R. Elliot. 



MOTHER LOVE. 



F I might build a palace fair. 
With every joy of soul and sense, 
And set my heart as sentry there 

To guard your happy innocence; 
If I might plant a hedge too strong 

For creeping sorrows to writhe through, 
And find my whole life not too long 
To give, to make your hedge for you. 

If I could teach the laden air 

To bear no sounds that were not sweet; 
Could teach the earth that only fair. 

Untrodden flowers deserve your feet. 
Would I not tear the secret scroll 

Where all your griefs lie closely curled. 
And give your little hand control 

Of all the joys of all the world? 



But, ah ! I have no skill to raise 

The palace, teach the hedge to grow ; 
The common airs blow through your days, 

By common paths your dear feet go ; 
And you must twine, of common flowers. 

The wreath that happy women wear. 
And bear, in desolate, darkened hours. 

The common griefs that all men bear. 

The pinions of my love I fold. 

Your little shoulders close about; 
Ah ! could my love keep out the cold, 

Or shut the creeping shadows out ! 
Rough paths will tire your darling feet, 

Gray skies will weep your tears above, 
While round your life, in torment beat 

The impotent wings of mother love ! 



PASTORAL AND PEACEFUL. 
THE EVENTIDE OF LIFE. 



3^3 




OW, let me rest at eventide, upon the 
fi>% gray hillside, 
And musing, watch the autumn sun behind 
yon mountain glide. 

The long, long shafts of yellow light across 

the heavens leap, 
And touch with fiery glow the brow, of yon 

bald summit steep. 



These, the undisputable signs of calm and 

stormless days, 
Show me that I should aim to leave like 

records of my ways. 

So let my life in calm content fade out like 

this and leave 
Like glowing colors after me, when sinks 

my sun at eve. 

—B. Kelly. 



UNDER THE MISTLETOE. 



fiHE snows return, and the great stars 
burn 
O'er a world struck dumb with frost ; 
Auroral lights scale empurpled heights. 
And in rosy depths are lost. 

Old dreams come back their golden track, 
A shining company ; 



But you, my Dear, through the waning 
year, 
Return no more to me. 

And musing here, I wonder. Dear, 

If now in heaven you know 
The perfect bliss of that first kiss, 

Under the mistletoe. 

— Bradford K. Daniels. 



A SERIOUS QUESTION 

KITTEN went a-walking, 



\is\ One morning in July, 
And idly fell a-talking 

With a great big butterfly. 

The kitten's tone was airy. 
The butterfly would scofif, 

When there came along a fairy. 
Who whisked his wings right off. 

And then — for it is written 
Fairies can do such things — 



Upon the startled kitten 

She stuck the yellow wings. 

The kitten felt a quiver. 

She rose into the air. 
Then flew down to the river 

To view her image there. 

With fear her heart, was smitten, 

And she began to cry : 
"Am I a butter-kitten, 

Or just a kitten-fly?" 

—Carolyn Wells. 



DIALOGUES, TABLEAUX AND HOME ENTERTAINMENTS. 



C(5* ^* v^ 



¥T is not absolutely necessary to hold 
all entertainments of an amateur char- 
acter in churches and halls, or other places 
of a public or semi-public nature; the home 
may be so transformed that little diversions 
in the shape of dialogues, tableaux, recita- 
tions and other features can be given to the 
satisfaction of every one. 

These recreations are not only pleasur- 
able but beneficial as well, being instructive 
and serving a good purpose. 

A small stage, or raised platform, can be 
easily and inexpensively constructed, and 
may consist of stout boards laid upon boxes 
about two feet (or more) in height so that 
the participants in the performances may 
be upon a slight elevation. The front of 
the platform can be screened with the 
national colors— or anything else, for that 
matter. A curtain, strung on a wire, can 
be readily prepared, cloth of a dark color 
being preferable. If a "drop," instead of 
a "draw" curtain, be desired, a light 
wooden frame should be made, firm at the 
joints, and just as wide as the stage, to the 
front part of which it should be attached. 
This frame is merely three sides of a square, 
and the curtain is to be strongly nailed to 
the top piece. A stiff wire should be run 
along the lower edge of the curtain, and 
a number of rings attached to the back of 
it, in squares — say three rows, of four rings 



each, extending from top to bottom. Three 
cords, fastened to the wire, and passing 
through the rings, are run over three pul- 
leys on the upper part of the frame. 

A row of lamps, with tin reflectors, placed 
along the front of the stage is sufficient for 
illuminating purposes. 

In securing what are known as "effects" 
the amateur will be surprised to learn how 
easily the audience can be deceived. 
Thunder is imitated by vigorously shaking 
a large piece of thin sheet iron, and the 
beating of a bass-drum closely resembles 
the mutterings of a storm. Lightning is 
produced by blowing a handful of pow- 
dered rosin through the flame of a lamp. 
The sound of rain is secured by a revolving 
drum filled with peas or shot. Snow is 
represented by small pieces of white paper 
dropped from above. Mist is imitated by 
a curtain of thin white gauze or mosquito 
netting in front of the performers. Colored 
fires are manufactured by burning a little 
alcohol upon thoroughly dried nitrate of 
strontia in an iron vessel, giving a crimson 
light; upon nitrate of barytes, a yellow 
flame; boracic acid or nitrate of copper, a 
green hght; on muriate of copper, orange 
color. High lights are produced by plac- 
ing a lamp in a box lined with tin at either 
(or both) sides of the stage or platform. 



MAN'S UNCONSCIOUS SELFISHNESS. 



ERE is a short but expressive dia- 
logue, which embodies and carries 
with it a lesson full of meaning. It illus- 
trates the unconscious selfishness of men 




who are naturally kind-hearted, loving and 
generous: 

Scene I 

(Smith and his wife.) 



365 



366 



DIALOGUES, TABLEAUX, ETC. 



Mrs. S. — Albert, I wish you would give 
me seventy-five cents. 

S. — What do you want seventy-five cents 
for? 

Mrs. S. — I want to get some braid for 
my new dress. 

S. — Haven't you something else that will 
do? 

Mrs. S. — No. But, then, braid is cheap; 
and I can make it look quite pretty with 
seventy-five cents. 

S. — Plague take these women's fashions. 
Your endless trimmings and thing-a-ma- 
jigs cost more than the dress is worth. It 
is nothing but shell out money when a 
woman thinks of a new dress. 

Mrs. S. — I don't have many new dresses. 
I do certainly try to be as economical as 
I can. 

S. — It is funny kind of economy, at all 
events. But if you must have it, I suppose 
you must. 

(Takes out his purse, and counts out 
seventy-five cents angrily; starts to go, 
thinks of his umbrella, and goes back for 
it. Finds his wife in tears.) 

S. — Good gracious! Mary, I should like 
to know if you are crying at what I said 
about the dress. 

Mrs. S. — I was not crying at what you 
said. I was thinking of how hard I have 
to work. I am tied to the house. I have 
many little things to perplex me. Then to 
think — 

S. — Pshaw! What do you want to be 
foolish for? (Exit.) 

(He is met by his little girl, Susie.) 

Susie — (holding both his hands.) Oh, 
papa, give me fifteen cents. 

S. — What in the world do you want it 
for? Are they changing books again? 

Susie — No. I want a hoop. It's splen- 
did rolling; and all the girls have one. 
Please, can't I have one? 

S._Nonsense! If you want a hoop, go 



and get one off some old barrel. (Throws 
her off.) 

Susie — (in a pleading tone.) Please, 
Papa? 

S.— No, I told you! 

(Susie bursts into tears, and he goes off 
muttering, "Cry, then, and cry it out.") 

Scene II. 

(Smith and wife.) 

Mrs. S. — I am glad you are home thus 
early. How has business gone to-day? 

S. — Well, I am happy to say. 

Mrs. S. — Are you very tired? 

S. — No; why? 

Mrs. S. — I want you to go to the sew- 
ing circle to-night. 

S. — -I can't go; I have an engagement. 

Mrs. S. — I am sorry. You never go 
with me now. You used to go a great 
deal. 

(Just then Susie comes in crying, drag- 
ging an old hoop, and rubbing her eyes.) 

S. — What is the matter, dear? 

Susie — The girls have been laughing at 
me, and making fun of my hoop. They 
say mine is ugly and homely. Mayn't I 
have one now? 

S. — Not now, Susie; not now. I'll 
think of it. 

(Susie goes out crying, followed by her 
mother. A friend of S. enters.) 

Friend — Hello, John! What's up? 

S. — Nothing in particular. Take a chair. 

Friend — How's business? 

S. — Good. 

Friend — Did you go to the club last 
night? 

S. — Don't speak so loud! 

Friend — Ha, wife don't know— does she? 
Where does she think you go? 

S. — I don't know. She never asks me, 
and I am glad of it. She asked me to go 
with her to-night, and I told her I was en- 
gaged. 



DIALOGUES, TABLEAUX, ETC. 



367 



Friend — Good! I shan't ask you where, 
but take it for granted that it was with me. 
What do you say for a game of billiards? 

S. — Good! I'm for that. (They rise to 
go.) Have a cigar, Tom? 

Friend — Yes. (They go out.) 

Scene III. 

(Two men in conversation.) 

Jones — Billiards? No, I never play bil- 
liards. 

Brown — Why not? 

Jones — I don't like its tendency. I can- 
not assert that the game is, of itself, an evil, 
to be sure. But, although it has the advan- 
tage of calling forth skill and judgment, yet 
•it is evil when it stimulates beyond the 
bounds of healthy recreation. 

Brown — That result can scarcely follow 
such a game. 

Jones — You are wrong there. The re- 
sult can follow in two ways. First, it can 
lead men away from their business. Sec- 
ondly, it leads those to spend their money 
who have none to spend. Look at that 
young man just passing. He looks like a 



mechanic; and I should judge from his ap- 
pearance that he has a family. I see by 
his face that he is kind and generous, and 
wants to do as near right as he can. I have 
watched him in the billiard saloon time 
after time, and only last night I saw him 
pay $1.40 for two hours' recreation. He 
did it cheerfully, too, and smiled at his loss. 
But how do you suppose it is at home? 

Brown — Upon my word, B., you speak 
to the point; for I know that young man, 
and what you have said is true. I can 
furnish you with facts. We have a club 
for a literary paper in our village. His 
wife was very anxious to take it; but he 
said he could not afford the $1.25 for it. 
And his little Susie, ten years old, has 
coaxed her father for fifteen cents, for a 
hoop, in vain. My Nellie told me that. 

Jones — Yes; and that two hours' rec- 
reation last night would have paid for both. 
It is well for the wives and children they 
do not know where all the money goes. 
They might have a different opinion of 
husbands and fathers. 



HAVING "AN AXE TO GRIND." 



fT is an old and most expressive saying 
that, when a man is over-anxious to 
please another and is profuse in praise, the 
flatterer "has an axe to grind." If all boys 
could go through the experience which 
opened the eyes of little I^ay White it 
would do them a wcrld of good. But then 
all boys do not have such thorough in- 
structors as John Bright. 
This tells the story : 

John — ^Stop a moment, boy. I've a word 
to say. 

Ray — Well, what is it? I can't stop 
long; I'm on my way to school; the bell 
is ringing. 



J. — What time does school begin, my 
little hero? 

R. — In ten minutes, and I must run half 
a mile to get there. 

J. — So far? You are a bright little fel- 
low; there isn't your match in all Boston. 
By the way, has your father such a thing 
as a grindstone? 

R. — -Oh, yes! There it stands. 

J. -Upon my word, you are a remarka- 
bly fine lad. Can you read, write and 
cipher? 

R. -That I can. I go to Mr. Brownell's 
school; I could read before I was four 
years old. 



368 



DIALOGUES, TABLEAUX, ETC. 



J. — What a wonderful boy! What's your 
name? 

R.— Ray White. 

J. — Well, Ray, can I grind my axe on 
your grindstone? 

R. — Yes; father can have no objection. 
Now I must go or I shall be late at school. 

j._Stop! I declare you're a fine little 
fellow. 

R. — I'm to have a new London writing- 
book to-morrow. 

j._Possible? I say, Ray, it's such a 
cold day all the water about the grind- 
stone seems to be frozen. Couldn't you 
get me some hot water? 

R. — Yes, I'll get some in half a minute. 
(Exit.) 

J. — There's nothing like flattery if you 
want to get an axe ground. Here's this 
little fool tickled out of his wits by my 
praises. The school-bell has been clang- 
ing away, but he forgets all about it. Well, 
well, Alexander the Great wasn't much 
wiser. It takes a philosopher like me to 
despise fame. 

R._(entering with kettle.) Here's the 
hot water. 

J. — Thank you, Tom. 

R. — No, sir; Ray— Ray White. 

j._Well, Ray, you're the finest lad I've 
ever seen. Will you turn the grindstone 
for me a minute? 

R. — Excuse me, sir, but the school-bell 
has — 

J. — Oh, I see, you're not strong enough. 

R, — Not strong enough! You shall see. 

J. — What a powerful boy! Grind away, 
Ray. 

R. — It turns rather hard. You are press- 
ing on, sir. 

J. — Yes, the axe has never been ground 
before. I declare! You turn it as well 
as a grown man could do. 

R. — I'm afraid the school-bell has done 
ringing. 



J. — Turn away, Ray. What a man you'll 
make if you live to grow up! What do you 
mean to be, Ray? 

R, — A printer; my brother is a printer. 
I never knew this grindstone to go so hard. 
It tries the hands. 

J. — Turn away, Ray. The axe is almost 
ground. I never knew such a boy — I'll 
say that. One more turn, Ray! There! 
That will do. The axe is ground. 

R. — It's sharp, is it? 

J. — What's that to you? You want a 
penny for the job, I suppose. Now, look 
here, you little rascal! 

R.— Rascal? Is that all the thanks I 
get? 

J. — You've been playing truant. Oh, 
won't you catch it from old Brownell! 

R. — After blistering my hands over your 
old axe you call me a rascal, do you? 

J.— Pick up your satchel and scud! 

R. — I shall be late at school. I shall 
be thrashed. But I shall remember you, 
Mr. Axegrinder, for the rest of my life. 
(Runs off.) 

J.— Ha, ha, ha! Poor little Ray. 'Tis 
rather tough on him, I confess, but it's a 
good lesson; it will set him to thinking — 
will teach him how much axe-grinding 
there is going on in the world. When he 
sees a tradesman over-polite to his cus- 
tomers, begging them to take a drink and 
throwing his goods on the counter, Ray 
will say to himself, "That man has an axe 
to grind." When he sees a fellow who in 
private life is a tyrant professing great love 
for liberty, Ray will say, "Look out, good 
people; that fellow would set you turning 
grindstones." When he sees a man hoisted 
into office by party spirit, without one 
qualification to render him either respecta- 
ble or useful, Ray will say, "Deluded peo- 
ple, you are doomed for a season to turn 
the grindstone for a booby." And so, in 
the long run, Ray will not grudge the time 



DIALOGUES, TABLEAUX, ETC. 



369 



he has wasted turning the grindstone for 
John Bright. His wits will be as much 
sharpened as my axe has been by his labor. 



On the whole, I flatter myself I've done a 
very benevolent action. (Exit.) 



THE LOVING WIFE'S MISTAKE. 



Husband and wife. 

Time — The present — and a little before 
II p. m. 

Place — The pleasant parlor of the happy 
pair. ^. 

Wife — Eleven o'clock! And he isn't 
home yet! (Sighs again.) Eleven o'clock! 
(Noise of footsteps heard ofif.) Hark! Ah, 
at last! 

(Takes up her work agaiji. The door on 
the right opens, and the husband enters 
briskly and smiling, with his hands ex- 
tended toward the wife. The wife does not 
move; she works on steadily. The hus- 
band pauses, surprised. He looks at her 
doubtfully. She seems calm, and if she has 
not looked up, it is because she has not 
heard him. He smiles again, and going up 
to her on tiptoe, bends over her chair to 
kiss her. The wife then draws herself up 
stififly, and looks at him frigidly. The hus- 
band at first starts back in astonishment. 
Then he steps toward her.) 

Wife — (thrusting back her chair.) Do 
not touch me ! 

(The husband is about to speak.) 
Wife — (rising and recoiling.) Do not 
dare to touch me, sir! 

(She goes toward the door on the left. 
The husband hesitates, in doubt, following 
her with his eyes.) 

Wife — (with her hand on the door.) 
After your conduct to-night all is over be- 
tween us forever! 

(She opens the door and goes out. The 
husband darts after her, but the door 
slams in his face. He is astounded. What 
can this mean? What has happened? Is 
she in earnest or in jest? Perhaps it is a 
joke, and she may be laughing now. He ' 



listens with his ear to the keyhole. He 
hears nothing. Something is wrong; there 
is a domestic hurricane blowing up. Well, 
he can stand it, and it will not be the first. 
He will let it blow over. Rubs his hands 
with energy. Then takes up the evening 
paper, throws himself on the sofa, and be- 
gins to read.) 

Wife— (coming out of her room and 

standing before him.) And how long do 

you suppose this sort of thing can go on? 

(The husband is surprised.) 

Wife— (explosively.) How long do you 

think I will lead this life? 

(The husband is more surprised.) 
Wife— Do you imagine that I can spend 
my evenings alone waiting for you? 
(The husband is about to rise.) 
Wife — Oh, don't move on my account, 
I beg. I could never forgive myself if I 
disturbed you! I don't doubt that you 
feel the need of rest after five hours passed 
out of the house! 

(The husband is about to speak.) 
Wife— (suddenly.) I'm only sorry that 
I had to sit up for you. If I had known 
that you wouldn't come home until after 
midnight — 

(The husband looks at the clock.) 
Wife— (quickly.) I beg your pardon! 
That clock is slow; it is at least an hour 
slow. It is now half-past twelve! 
(The husband looks at his watch.) 
Wife — But what do you care how lonely 
I am! I suppose I must get used to your 
coming home at all hours of the night. 
When I accepted you I thought I was 
going to have a man for a husband— not 
an owl! 
(The husband is about to protest.) 



370 



DIALOGUES, TABLEAUX, ETC. 



Wife — But I suppose you men are all 
alike — birds of a feather! Oh, I know 
you, and I am not taken in by your afifected 
calmness. I know you have been up to 
some mischief this evening. I see it in 
your eyes. 

(The husband is about to protest again.) 
Wife — Don't talk to me! I know you, 
I say, — and there isn't anything you are 
not. capable of! 

(The husband smiles.) 
Wife— Oh, you can smile and smile! 
But you can't persuade me that a gentle- 
man would make his wife cry — and then 
laugh at her. 

(The husband protests again.) 
Wife— (feverishly.) Oh, I can laugh, 
too. 

(The husband revolts at last.) 
Wife — Oh, I know what you are going 
to say. It was a college dinner, of course 
— and all the old professors were there. 
You would all have liked to take your 
wives, no doubt, but it is against the rules ! 
That's a pity, isn't it? — for we should have 
found ourselves in good company at this 
college dinner, shouldn't we? 
(The husband tries to protest.) 
Wife — At least, we could have laughed 
with you, drank with you, sang with you: 
"For he's a jolly good fellow." A college 
dinner is always so lively. 

(The husband suggests a doubt.) 
Wife — It wasn't gay? So much the 
worse. If it had been, you would have 
been in your element. At times you are 
so funny ! 

(The husband modestly deprecates this 
compliment.) 

Wife — At least, they say so — I never 
discovered it. I never heard you make a 
good joke. 

(The husband is disconcerted.) 

Wife — Perhaps that is because you don't 



put yourself out to please me. You keep 
your wit for others. 

(The husband approaches her, smiling.) 

Wife — No, sir, no! Don't touch me! 

(The husband recoils indignantly.) 

Wife — You spend your days and nights 
out of the house, and I suppose I could 
follow your example, but I am not one 
to go gadding about. 

(Hitherto the wife had spoken inces- 
santly, rattling off speech after speech 
without a pause, but now she stops for 
breath. Hitherto the husband has re- 
sponded rather by his looks and by his 
gestures than by any actual attempt to 
speak, though the actor must be careful 
not to suggest to the audience the hus- 
band is dumb. Now, at last, as the wife 
pauses, the husband sees his opportunity, 
and prepares to seize it.) 

Wife — (starting afresh.) Not another 
word! 

(The husband has at last a chance to 
reply, but he feels it would be useless. He 
shrugs his shoulders and turns away.) 

Wife— That's right! Lose your tem- 
per! That's the best thing you can do when 
you dare not answer me! 

(The husband turns back.) 

Wife — ^What have you to say in self-de- 
fense? 

(The husband looks at her calmly.) 

Wife — Nothing! You can't even make 
up a likely story! I have believed them be- 
fore, why shouldn't I now? You might at 
least pay me the compliment of lying to 
me! But you have nothing at all to say- 
nothing, nothing! 

(The husband approaches her.) 

Wife — Well, go on! Strike me! 

(The husband is staggered by this.) 

Wife — -Why don't you strike me? 

(The husband does not know what to 
do.) 



DIALOGUES, TABLEAUX, ETC. 



371 



Wife — What are you waiting for? You 
are the stronger— you are the man — I am 
only a weak woman. Don't be frightened 
— I shall not try to defend myself! 

(The husband has again a chance to 
speak, but what could he say? Obviously, 
the best thing he can do is to go. So he 
starts toward the door.) 

Wife — -So you don't intend to beat me? 
Are you afraid I shall call for help? 

(The husband turns back.) 

Wife — You are wrong to fear that. I 
am not one of the women who like to 
make a noise and a scandal. 

(The husband is about to answer, but he 
checks himself.) 

Wife— I hate scandal, and I love peace 
and quiet. 

(The husband raises his eyebrows.) 

Wife.— (furiously.) Don't you know 
that? 

(The husband takes up his paper quietly, 
and sits down again.) 

Wife — Have you nothing to say for your- 
self? Do you persist in behaving like a 
brute? 

(The husband begins to read.) 

Wife — -(drawing near to him.) And you 
can read a newspaper when your poor wife 
is in tears? There are husbands who would 
at least try to explain their conduct. When 
a wife is miserable, when she is tormented 
by doubts and misgivings, when perhaps 
she is in the wrong, but when surely she is 
suffering cruelly, there are husbands who 
would try to soothe her by a kind word, by 
a gentle glance. Is it so very hard to have 
pity on those we love? 

(The husband, touched by this, lays 
aside his newspaper.) 

Wife — ^Well, well, I will allow that there 
was a college dinner! But you must admit 
that it isn't natural for a man to come home 
after midnight — 

(The husband is about to speak.) 



Wife — Well, well, call it twelve o'clock, 
half-past eleven, what you will. But the 
dinner was over by half-past nine — 

(The husband is again about to speak.) 

Wife — You told me so yourself. 

(The husband protests.) 

Wife — Is it any wonder that I am sur- 
prised? that I am worried? that I am 
wounded? 

(The husband hesitates.) 

Wife — And you refuse to answer a sin- 
gle question? 

(She falls, sobbing, on the sofa. The 
husband looks at her compassionately.) 

Wife — (sobbing.) Oh, mother, mother! 
How you would suffer if you only knew 
how miserable I am! 

(The husband is sorrowful.) 

Wife — (sitting up.) And this is nothing 
to what I may expect in the future. This 
is only the beginning! 

(The husband goes towards her.) 

Wife (thrusting him aside) — Let me 
alone! I have no need of your hypocritical 
consolation. You wanted to see me cry. 
Well, I've been crying — and I hope you are 
satisfied! 

(The husband thinks this is a little too 
much. He loses patience completely, and 
in his anger strides to and fro.) 

Wife — Oh, I know it is absurd for me 
to take on so. I have no business to weep. 
I ought to be used to neglect by this time. 
I suppose that we poor women can get ac- 
customed to anything. 

(The husband continues to pace to and 
fro.) 

Wife — When we were married, only 
five years ago, I little thought it would 
come to this. Ours was a beautiful wed- 
ding, and everybody said we were going 
to be so happy! Everybody except old 
Aunt Anastasia — she was more keen- 
sighted than the rest. 

(The husband turns at this last speech.) 



372 



DIALOGUES, TABLEAUX, ETC. 



Wife— Yes, sir, Aunt Anastasia was 
keen-sighted, for all she was eighty-seven. 
She said, ''Virginia, my dear child, be on 
your guard. You are marrying a middle- 
aged man — " 

(The husband was indignant.) 

Wife — Aunt Anastasia called you a mid- 
dle-aged man! And she said that you were 
a broker, and that you had lived in clubs, 
and that you went to the races, and that 
you probably played poker. 

(The husband is impatient.) 

Wife — And that it was very doubtful 
whether you would make a good husband. 

(The husband is more and more impa- 
tient.) 

Y/ife — And so Aunt Anastasia advised 
me to be on my guard, and if you ill- 
treated or neglected me, to get a divorce 
at once. 

(The husband has taken up a paper- 
cutter from the table, and at the word 
"divorce" he breaks it.) 

\Yife — There, you see, you break every- 
thing! That's the way you answer me! 
Your temper is getting worse and worse 
every day. I shall live in fear of my life 
soon ! 

(The husband is about to let his indigna- 
tion break out, but he controls himself. 
Going to the little table, he pours out a 
glass of water.) 

Wife — So — you are thirsty! I don't 
doubt it! Your college dinner must have 
made you very dry. 

(The husband pours out a little more 
water, filling the glass up.) 

Wife — Cold water ought to be good for 
you; it ought to calm your violence. 

(The husband sips his glass slov/ly, and 
in great calmness.) 

Wife (furiously)— But I will beg you not 
to be as careless in the future as you have 
been in the past. 



(The husband sets down the glass and 
wipes his lips.) 

Wife (after a pause) — The night before 
last you spilt half a glass of ice-water on 
my velvet prayer-book. 

(The husband listens to her coldly but 
politely, and then goes to the little table 
and sets down the glass.) 

Wife (very angry) — And there never 
was a time when I needed my prayer-book 
more than now. What would becorne of 
me if I had only this world to think of? 

(The husband still listens frigidly.) 

Wife — Oh, I know what your views are! 
You always go to sleep during the sermon! 
But you cannot make me forget the les- 
sons I learned at my mother's knee. 

(The husband, resigned to anything, 
listens in silence.) 

Wife — What do you say? 

(The husband, by a gesture, suggests 
that there is no need for him to say any- 
thing.) 

Wife — My mother was a noble woman! 

(The husband shrugs his shoulders.) 

Wife — You don't think so? I didn't be- 
lieve you capable of insulting my mother! 

(The husband raises his hands in a silent 
appeal.) 

Wife (sobbing) — You insult my poor, 
dear mother. And what day do you choose 
for this outrage? A day when all my fam- 
ily used to try to make me happy — my 
birthday! 

(The husband listens stolidly.) 

Wife — Oh, yes, to-day is December 20th 
— my birthday. But you have forgotten it. 

(The husband protests.) 

Wife — Confess now that you didn't re- 
membar it — that you never remember it! 

(The husband is about to speak.) 

Wife— Oh, don't say a word ! You would 
only tell me another story! 

(The husband looks at the audience, as 



DIALOGUES, TABLEAUX, ETC. 



Z7Z 



though to call them to witness. Then he 
turns to his wife smiling.) 

Wife — Well, what is it? What is the 
matter with you? Why don't you speak? 

(The husband takes a jewel-case from 
his pocket, and opens it.) 

Wife — What's that? 

(The husband hands it to her.) 

Wife — A bracelet? For me? 



(The husband nods.) 

Wife (reading the inscription inside the 
bracelet) — "Virginia — from Paul — Decem- 
ber 20th." And this is why you were late? 

(The husband nods again.) 

Wife (effusively) — Oh, Paul, how good 
you are to me! And how I do love you! 
(Throwing herself into his arms.) 

— Brander Matthews. 



HOW TO ACT SHADOW PICTURES. 



a)i OME entertainments can be given 

\ I all the year round, although it is the 
custom to reserve them almost exclusively 
for the holidays, or, at least, the season 
when cold weather prevails. Young people 
are always searching for something new, 
but they have never discovered anything 
more pleasurable than the old-time 
shadow pantomime, which affords prac- 
tical, endless amusement. 

Of all the various methods which have 
been devised for furnishing an amusing en- 
tertainment there is probably none which 
so strongly recommends itself for its sim- 
plicity, its scope for originality and for 
genuine fun as the shadow pantomime. 
To the uninitiated the effects produced are 
startling, and to all, if properly managed, 
ludicrous in the extreme. 

In the arrangement of tableaux the effect 
is mainly dependent on the judicious and 
artistic blending of colors, the expression 
of countenances and the graceful positions 
of the posers. In the pantomime, color is 
of no consequence, and facial expression is 
confined entirely to the profile. 

The first thing requisite is a white cur- 
tain or sheet to receive the shadows. Where 
there is already a stage and drop curtain 
the white sheet is arranged as an extra 
drop, care being taken to have it hang so 
as to be as tight and as free from inequali- 
ties as possible, and the larger the better. 



In adapting the exhibition to a parlor en- 
tertainment the white sheet may be 
stretched to fit exactly between sliding or 
folding doors. Before stretching the sheet 
it should be thoroughly and uniformly wet- 
ted, and then wrung out. This insures 
sharpness of outline to the shadows. 

At the front or on that side of the sheet 
appropriated to the spectators, the room 
must, during the performance, be entirely 
dark. On the stage or behind the sheet, 
where the performers are, should be only 
one bright, steady light. This must be ar- 
ranged so as to be as near to the floor as 
possible, and exactly opposite the center of 
the sheet. For parlor purposes, where 
there is gas in the room, the best con- 
trivance is a drop light, the burner of which 
(a large-sized one) is not more than two or 
three inches from the ground and placed so 
as to present the thin edge (not the flat) of 
the flame to the curtain. This renders the 
outlines all the more distinct and clearly de- 
lined. 

If gas is not to be had, the next best 
lamp is a tin cup filled vv^ith t^IIow, in the 
center of which is a cotton wick secured by 
a wire coil soldered into the middle of the 
inside of the cup, to prevent the wick from 
falling down when the tallow has melted. 
This tin lamp should be placed in the cen- 
ter of a flat dish full of sand, as a precaution 
against accident. 



374 



DIALOGUES, TABLEAUX, ETC. 



If the curtain is large, the Hght should be 
placed at a distance of about five or six 
feet, but a small curtain requires the light 
to be two or three feet farther away. The 
distance can be best ascertained by experi- 
ment. If there should be no means of clos- 
ing the sheet after or in the intervals of a 
performance, there should be a light placed 
on each side, behind the curtain, in such a 
position that no shadow will be thrown by 
it, and the center light extinguished, or ef- 
fectually shaded by the placing of some 
solid object close in front of it. 

During the performance care must be 
taken that those persons whose shadows 
are not for the moment needed, should 
stand behind the light, as entrance or exit 
is effected by jumping lightly or stepping 
sideways over the light. This produces an 
effect on the curtain just as if the shadow 
had dropped from or gone up into the ceil- 
ing. As profile is essential, the side and 
not the front or back should as far as prac- 
ticable be presented to the light, and in 
using tables or chairs let them be placed 
close to, but not touching, the curtain. The 
nearer the curtain, the clearer the shadow. 
In order to bring any object on a table 
clearly into shadow, it must be placed at 
the edge of the table nearest the light, 
otherwise the shadow of the top of the ta- 
ble will obscure the shadow of the lower 
part of the object. The table, therefore, 
for general purposes, should not be too 
wide, and may be just as well a strip of 
board from two to three feet long, and 
eight inches wide, nailed to four strips of 
wood for legs. 

An amusing deception may be practiced 
with small objects, such as cups and 
saucers, by first placing them at the edge 
farthest from the light, where they will be 
out of shadow, and by fastening a string 
to them, which can be done with a piece of 
wax, and carrying the end over the edge 



and down the leg nearest the light, through 
a small eyelet at the bottom of the leg and 
so along the ground to the back of the 
light. By this means the objects can be 
drawn across to the edge nearest the light 
and will appear to rise out of the table. 
By reversing the arrangement they appear 
to sink into the table. For this purpose 
the table should be a little wider than that 
ordinarily used. 

Many curious effects are possible. For 
instance, to make a false nose, cut a piece 
of pasteboard to the required shape, and 
split open the back edge sufficiently to al- 
low the real nose to be inserted. It can 
be fixed securely either by strings attached 
to each side and tied behind the head, or 
by gumming on with mucilage. The latter 
plan is the better, as it admits of the nose 
being apparently pulled off. When this is 
done the performer who loses his nose 
should have one hand full of sawdust, and, 
at the moment that the false nose is re- 
moved, bring that hand up in time to pre-, 
vent the shadow of his natural nose ap- 
pearing on the curtain, then leaning his 
head forward and letting the sawdust drop 
gently in little gushes as it were. The blood 
will seem to drop and call forth manifesta- 
tions of deep emotion or high delight from 
the sympathizing spectators. Sawdust is 
the best thing to represent liquid in the act 
of pouring, but if the orifice be small, as 
in the case of a coffeepot or tea kettle, it 
will be liable to choke up the spout, and 
sand, thoroughly dried, will be found 
preferable. 

Any one with a moderate degree of in- 
genuity and fertility of invention, will be 
able to multiply the effects from the hints 
given, and n.ay produce an almost endless 
variety of illusions. As an illustration of 
this, some of the most effective conjuring 
tricks may be produced with great suc- 
cess. For instance, a number of objects 



DIALOGUES, TABLEAUX, ETC. 



375 



may be cut out of cardboard, such as birds, 
animals, kettles, teapots, hats, flowers and 
plants in pots, at least twenty or more of 
which can be piled flat on the floor without 
coming above the level of the lower part of 
the shadow curtain. If these are lifted one 
by one just behind the profile of a stiff hat, 
all the amusing effects can be produced of 
an inexhaustible "tile." A full-sized hoop- 
skirt can be presented to the gaze of the 
astonished spectators. All of these objects 
can be thrown over the light, picked up by 
an assistant behind, and pushed, one by 
one, back to the hat, by means of a thin 
strip of wood kept flat on the floor, and re- 
produced as often as may be required. 

It would be well to remark, incidentally, 
that for grown-up performers the curtain 
should not be less than ten feet high. 
When the curtain is much less, smaller per- 
formers are requisite. 

Too much stress cannot be laid on thor- 
ough rehearsal. Everything should be tried 
over and over again, until perfectly accom- 
plished. Care should be taken that the acts 
or separate pieces performed during an ex- 
hibition be as distinct in details as possible. 



so as not to allow the effects produced in 
any one of them to be repeated in any other. 

Let nothing be undertaken in which 
there is the possibility of failure in any of 
the arrangements. Rather attempt little 
and do it well, than too much and bungle 
in it. Then always remember, also, that the 
individual in corpore is nothing, the shadow 
everything. Do not be too sure that this 
little action or that bit of by-play will be 
all right when the time comes; try it be- 
forehand, and in all possibility the trial will 
show how imperfect the attempt would 
have been. 

It should be remembered: That in re- 
hearsal only can the performer be permitted 
to look at his own shadow; as during the 
performance the profile must be constantly 
presented to the curtain, a position which 
will prevent the performer from witnessing 
the effect of his actions. Let everything 
be done as close to the curtain as possible, 
but never so near as to touch it. 

If these general directions are carefully 
followed the performers will not fail to 
elicit their meed of applause at the close of 
the shadow pantomime. 



MOTHER GOOSE, LITTLE GEESE AND " BRER" FOX. 



fN this pretty production the characters 
are Mother Goose, two little girls in 
full white muslin cloaks with hoods and 
wearing yellow stockings, representing the 
Geese, and a good-sized boy in a brown fur 
cloak and hood personating the Fox. The 
costume for Mother Goose can be designed 
by any mother, or, for that matter, the girl 
who assumes the part. 

Scene I. 

Mother Goose. — Come, children dear, 
and listen to me, 
I'm feeble and old, as you can see, 
And soon away from this world of woe, 



Your poor, old mother must go, go, go! 

[Shakes her head.] 
Now, when I am gone, you must not fret. 
Nor my good advice must you e'er forget. 
Young geese are silly, and the fox is sly, 

[Enter Fox unseen.] 
Remember that when you pass him by. 

[Shakes her fingers.] 
And, children dear, whatever you do. 
Never listen to him when he speaks to you! 
And stay you at home when the hour is 

late. 
Or sad, sad indeed will be your fate. 
Young geese are silly, and the fox is sly, 
Remember that when I die, die, die! 



37^ 



DIALOGUES, TABLEAUX, ETC 



[Young geese kneel beside her.] 
First Young Goose.— Oh, mother dear, 
we will e'er be true, 
When the fox is near we will think of you. 
Second Young Goose.— And though we 
may believe he is nice. 
We'll be sure to remember your good ad- 
vice; 
And chance we to meet him, whenever the 

, day. 
We'll turn our faces the other way. 

Both Young Geese [together].— And 
when night comes we will never roam. 
But think of the sly fox, and stay at home. 
[Rise hand in hand and repeat.] 
Mother Goose.— Young geese are silly, 
and the fox is sly, 
Remember that when I die, die, die! 

Scene IL 
First Young Goose.— Come, take a walk, 
come, sister dear. 
See! overhead the moon shines clear; 
And, if our way the fox should pass, 
We'lLhide us down in some thick grass; 
And, when he's gone, we'll hasten home— 
Don't be a coward, sister, come! 

Second Young Goose.— Ob, sister dear, 
I should love to go ; 
But he, the old fox, is sly, you know. 
First Young Goose.— What if he is! we 
are not afraid; 
We'll show him that we geese are made 
~ Of something more than feathers. Come! 
We'll go not very far from home. ^ 
[They walk back and forth, hand in hand, 
and meet Fox face to face.] 
Fox.— Good evening, oh, good evening! 
How d'ye do? 
Two charming little maids like you 
Should never walk alone. 
I see, my dears, you're really quite afraid 

of me. 
I'm not a handsome fellow, that I own, 
And if you bid me, I'll go my way alone. 



But come, my dears, I know you will — • 
Come walk with me to yonder moonlit hill; 
I'll show you where the vine's rich clusters 

grow; 
And you shall feast upon them — will you 

go? [Aside.] 
I ask these silly geese on grapes to sup, 
But when I get them safe, I'll eat them up! 

[Geese walk off, hand in hand, with 

Fox.] 

Scene III. 

(A pen made with chairs. Young Geese 
kneeling.) 

Young Geese [together]. — Oh, please let 

us out, kind sir, please do. 
And whatever you ask we will do for you. * 
Fox [with contempt]. — What! let you 

out, now that I've got you in; 
Why, my little dears, that would be a sin? 
If you had been to your mother true. 
You'd have shunned the trap I laid for you. 
But now you are here, please don't blame 

me, 
It's all your own fault, as you can see. 
Young geese are silly, and the fox is sly, 
Did you think of that when I passed you 

by? 
And you listened to me when I spoke to 

you, 
Is that what your mother advised you to 

do? 
Oh, no! my dears, you may cackle and 

squeal. 
But you're here to make me a luscious 

meal. 
Good sense is but folly when it comes too 

late! 
And a goose must expect but a goose's fate! 
So, to-night you may sup on regret and 

tears, 
To-morrow [smacks his lips]— good-night, 

pleasant dreams, my pretty dears! 

[Aside.] 
I might have said more, but what's the use. 



DIALOGUES, TABLEAUX, ETC. 



377 



Of talking good sense to a silly young 

goose; 
Young geese will be silly, and the fox is sly, 



Remember that, kind friends, good-bye! 
good-bye! 

— Anna M. Ford. 



SUGGESTIONS FOR PRETTY TABLEAUX. 



ANY beautiful groupings can be 
designed for tableaux by those of 
an artistic or imaginative nature, and the 
services of a professional can be dispensed 
with altogether. By placing sheets of thin 
paper of various colors in front of the side 
lights some unique and even startling 
effects can be produced, and thus the 
fancies of those having the entertainment 
in charge are aided and assisted in the most 
charming manner. 

If possible, a large gilded frame — like a 
heavy picture frame— should enclose the 
tableaux where not more than two or three 
figures appear. The effect in this case is 
pleasing and happy in every conceivable 



way. The side lights, being placed upon 
the inside of the frame, are close to the 
figures and bring out in clearness all the 
details and enable those in the audience to 
obtain a perfect view of the characters 
posing. 

It is not a difficult matter to select sub- 
jects and make groupings for tableaux, as 
those who have witnessed the representa- 
tions presided over by school teachers and 
the managers of club and society organiza- 
tions can testify. 

As for pantomimes, they require action 
where tableaux necessitate absolute quiet, 
but the surroundings on the stage or plat- 
form are essentially the same. 



HOW THE CENSUS IS TAKEN. 



Scene and Characters. — A farm house; 
Mrs. Touchwood at the washtub being 
quizzed by the census-taker. 

f^ GOD morning, madam. Is the head 
\^^ of the house at home? 

Mrs. Touchwood. Yes, sir, I'm at home. 

Inquisitor — Haven't you a husband ? 

Mrs. T. — Yes, sir, but he ain't the head 
of the family, I'd have you to know. 

Inq. — How many persons have you in 
your family? 

Mrs. T, — ^Why, bless me, sir, what's that 
to you? You're mighty inquisitive, I 
think. 

Inq. — I'm the man that takes the census, 

Mrs. T. — If you was a man in your senses 
you wouldn't ask such impertinent ques- 
tions. 

Inq. — Don't be offended, old lady, but 
answer my questions as I ask them. 



Mrs. T. — "Answer a fool according to his 
folly!" — you know what the Scripture says. 
Old lady, indeed! 

Inq. — Beg your pardon, madam; but I 
don't care about hearing Scripture just at 
this moment. I'm bound to go according 
to law and not according to gospel. 

Mrs. T. — I should think you went neither 
according to law nor gospel. What busi- 
ness is it to you to inquire into folks' affairs, 
Mr. Thingumbob? 

Inq. — The law makes it my business, 
good woman, and if you don't want to ex- 
pose yourself to its penalties, you must 
answer my questions. 

Mrs. T.— Oh, it's the law is it? That 
alters the case. But I should like to know 
what the law has to do with other people's 
household affairs? 



378 



DIALOGUES, TABLEAUX, ETC. 



Inq. — Why, Congress made the law, and 
if it don't please you, you must talk to them 
about it. 

Mrs. T.— Talk to a fiddle-stick! Why, 
Congress is a fool, and you're another. 

Inq. — Now, good lady, you're a fine, 
good-looking woman; if you'll give me a 
few civil answers I'll thank you. What I 
wish to know first is, how many are there 
in ypur family? 

Mrs. T. — Let me see [counting on her 
fingers]; there's I and my husband is 
one 

Inq. — Two, you mean. 

Mrs. T. — Don't put me out, now, Mr. 
Thinkummy. There's I and my husband 
is one 

Inq. — Are you always one? 

Mrs. T.— What's that to you, I should 
like to know. But I tell you, if you don't 
leave off interrupting me I won't say an- 
other word. 

Inq. — Well, take your own way, and be 
hanged to you. 

Mrs. T.— I will take my own way, and no 
thanks to you. [Again counting her fin- 
gers.] There's I and my husband is one; 
there's John, he's two; Peter is three. Sue 
and Moll are four, and Thomas is five. And 
then there's Mr. Jenkins and his wife and 
the two children is six; and there's Jowler, 
he's seven. 

Inq. — Jowler! Who's he? 

Mrs. T. — ^Wlio's Jowler! Why, who 
should he be but the old house dog? 

Inq. — It's the number of persons I want 
to know. 

Mrs. T. — Very well, Mr. Flippergin, 
ain't Jowler a person? Come here, Jowler, 
and speak for yourself. I'm sure he's as 
personable a dog as there is in the whole 
State. 

Inq. — He's a very clever dog, no doubt. 
But it's the number of human beings I want 
to know. 



Mrs. T. — Human! There ain't a more 
human dog that ever breathed. 

Inq. — Well, but I mean the two-legged 
kind of beings. 

Mrs. T.— Oh, the two-legged, is it? Well, 
then, there's the old rooster, he's seven; the 
fighting-cock is eight, and the bantam is 
nine 

Inq. — Stop, stop, good woman, I don't 
want to know the number of your fowls. 

Mrs. T. — I'm very sorry indeed, I can't 
please you, such a sweet gentleman as you 
are. But didn't you tell me — 'twas the two- 
legged beings 

Inq. — True, but I didn't mean the hens. 

Mrs. T. — Oh, now I understand you. 
The old gobbler, he's seven, the hen turkey 
is eight; and if you'll wait a week there'll 
be a parcel of young ones, for the old hen 
turkey is setting on a whole snarl of eggs. 

Inq. — Blast your turkeys! 

Mrs. T. — Oh, don't now, good Mr. Hip- 
perstitcher, I pray you don't. They're as 
honest turkeys as any in the country. 

Inq. — Don't vex me any more. I'm get- 
ting to be angry. 

Mrs. T.— Ha! ha! ha! 

Inq. [striding about the room in a rage.] 
— Have a care, madam, or I shall fly out of 
my skin. 

Mrs. T. — If you do, I don't know who 
will fly in. 

Inq. — You do all you can to anger me. 
It's the two-legged creatures who talk I 
have reference to. 

Mrs. T. — Oh, now I understand you. 
Well, then, our Poll Parrot makes seven 
and the black gal eight. 

Inq. — I see you will have your own way. 

Mrs. T. — You have just found out, have 
you! You are a smart little man! 

Inq. — Have you mentioned the whole of 
your family? 

Mrs. T. — Yes, that's the whole — except 
the wooden-h^a4ed man in front. 



DIALOGUES, TABLEAUX, ETC. 



379 



Inq. — Wooden-headed? 

Mrs. T. — Yes, the schoolmaster what's 
boarding here. 

Inq. — I suppose if he has a wooden head 
he lives without eating, and therefore must 
be a profitable boarder. 

Mrs. T. — Oh, no, sir, you are mistaken 
there. He eats like a leather judgment. 

Inq. — How many servants are there in 
the family? 

Mrs. T. — Servants! Why, there's no 
servants but me and my husband. 

Inq. — What makes you and your hus- 
band servants? 

Mrs. T. — I'm a servant to hard work, 
and he is a servant to rum. He does noth- 
ing all day but guzzle, guzzle, guzzle ; while 
I'm working, and stewing, and sweating 
from morning till night, and from night till 
morning. 

Inq. — How many colored persons have 
you? 

Mrs. T. — There's nobody but Dinah, the 
black girl, Poll Parrot and my daughter 
Sue. 

Is your daughter a colored girl? 

Mrs. T. — I guess you'd think so if you 
was to see her. She's always out in the 
sun — and she's tanned up as black as an 
Indian. 

Inq. — How many white males are there 
in your family under ten years of age? 

Mrs. T. — Why, there ain't none now; my 
husband don't carry the mail since he's 
taken to drink so bad. He used to carry 
two, biit they wasn't white. 

Inq, — You mistake, good woman; I 
meant male folks, not leather mails. 

Mrs. T. — Let me see; there's none ex- 
cept little Thomas,, and Mr. Jenkins' two 
little girls, 

Inq. — Males, I said, madam, not females. 

Mrs. T. — Well, if you don't like them, 
you may leave them off. 



Inq. — How many white males are there 
between ten and twenty? 

Mrs. T. — Why, there's nobody but John 
and Peter, and John ran away last week. 

Inq. — How many white males are there 
between twenty and thirty? 

Mrs. T. — Let me see — there's the wood- 
en-headed man is one, Mr. Jenkins and his 
wife is two, and the black girl is three. 

Inq. — No more of your nonsense, old 
lady; I'm heartily tired of it. 

Mrs. T. — Hoity toity! Haven't I a right 
to talk as I please in my own house ? 

Inq. — You must answer the questions as 
I put them. 

Mrs. T. — "Answer a fool according to his 
folly" — you're right, Mr. Hippogriff. 

Inq. — How many white males are there 
between thirty and forty? 

Mrs. T. — Why, there's nobody but I and 
my husband — and he was forty-one last 
March. 

Inq. — As you count yourself among the 
males, I dare say you wear the breeches. 

Mrs. T.— Well, what if I do, Mr. Im- 
pertinence? Is that anything to you? Mind 
your own business, if you please. 

Inq. — Certainly — I did but speak. How 
many white males are there between forty 
and fifty? 

Mrs. T.— None. 

Inq. — How many between fifty and sixty? 

Mrs. T.— None. 

Inq. — Are there any between this and a 
hundred? 

Mrs. T. — None except the old gentle- 
man. 

Inq. — What old gentleman? You haven't 
mentioned any before. 

Mrs. T. — Why, gramther Grayling — I 
thought everybody knew gramther Gray- 
ling — he's a hundred and two years old 
inext August, if he lives so long — and I dare 
say he will, for he's got the dry wilt, and 
they say such folks never dies. 



38o 



DIALOGUES, TABLEAUX, ETC. 



Inq. — Now give the number of deaf and 
dumb persons. 

Mrs. T. — Why, there is no deaf persons, 
excepting husband, and he ain't so deaf as 
he pretends to be. When anybody axes 
him to take a drink of rum, if it's only in a 
whisper, he can hear quick enough. But if 
I tell him to fetch an armful of wood or 
feed the pigs or tend the griddle, he's as 
deaf as a horse-block. 

Inq. — How many dumb persons? 

Mrs. T. — Dumb! Why, there's no dumb 
body in the house, except the wooden- 
headed man, and he never speaks unless 
he's spoken to. To be sure, my husband 
wishes I was dumb, but he can't make it 
out. 

Inq. — Are there any manufactures car- 
ried on here? 

Mrs. T. — None to speak on, except tur- 
nip-sausages a!nd tow cloth. 

Inq. — Turnip-sausages ! 

Mrs. T. — Yes, turnip-sausages. Is there 
anything so wonderful in that? 

Inq.^I never heard of them before. 
What kind of machinery is used in making 
them? 

Mrs. T. — Nothing but a bread-trough, a 
chopping-knife and a sausage filler. 

Inq. — Are they made of clear turnips? 

Mrs. T. — Now you're terrible inquisitive. 
What would you give to know? 

Inq. — I'll give you the name of being the 
most communicative and pleasant woman 
I've met with for the last half-hour. 

Mrs. T. — ^Well, now, you're a sweet gen- 
tleman, and I must gratify you. You must 
know we mix with the turnip a little red 
cloth, just enough to give them a color, so 



they needn't look as if they were made of 
clear fat meat; then we chop them up well 
together, put in a little sage, summer 
savory, and black pepper; and they make 
as pretty little delicate links as ever was set 
on a gentleman's table ; they fetch the high- 
est price in the market. 

Inq. — Indeed! Have you a piano in the 
house? 

Mrs. T.— A piany ! What's that? 

Inq. — A musical instrument. 

Mrs. T. — Lor, no. But Sary Jane, down 
at the Corners, has one — you see. Sary 
got all highfalutin about the great Colu- 
shun down to Bosting, and down she went; 
an' when she came back the old man got 
no rest until she had one of the big square 
music boxes with white teeth — 'spose that's 
what you call a piany. 

Inq. — You seem to know what it is, then. 

Mrs. T. — Yes, sir. Have you anything 
more to ax? 

Inq. — Nothing more. Good morning, 
madam. 

Mrs. T. — Stop a moment; can't you think 
of something else? Do now, that's a good 
man. Wouldn't you like to know what 
we're a-going to have for dinner; or how 
many chickens our old white hen hatched 
at her last brood; or how many 

Inq.^ — -Nothing more — nothing more. 

Mrs. T. — Here, just look in the cup- 
board, and see how many red ants there 
are in the sugar-bowl; I haven't time to 
count them myself. 

Inq.— Confound your ants and all your 
relations. 

[Exit in bad humor.] 



PAT HAD A GOOD EXCUSE. 



[Nora in the kitchen, peeling potatoes.] 
Nora. — Och! it's deceivin' that all men 
are! Now I belaved Pat niver would for- 
sake me, and here he's trated me like an 



ould glove, and I'll niver forgive him. How 
praties make your eyes water. [Wipes tears 
away.] Almost as bad as onions. Not that 
I'm cryin'; oh, no. Pat Murphy can't see 



DIALOGUES, TABLEAUX, ETC. 



381 



me cry. [Knock without.] There is Pat 
now, the rascal. I'll lock the door. [Has- 
tens to lock door.J 

Pat [without]. — Arrah, Nora, and here I 
am. 

Nora. — And there ye'll stay, ye spalpeen. 
Pat [without). — Ah, come now, Nora, — 
ain't it opening the door you are after? 
Sure, I'm dyin' of cold. 

Nora. — Faith, you are too hard a sinner 
to die aisy — so you can take your time 
about it. 

Pat. — Open the door, cushla; the police 
will be takin' me up. 

Nora. — He won't kape you long, alanna! 

Pat. — Nora, if you let me in, I'll tell you 
how I came to lave you at the fair last 
night. 

Nora [relenting].- Will you, for true? 

Pat.— Indade I will. 
[Nora unlocks door. Enter Pat gayly. He 
snatches a kiss from her.] 

Nora. — Be ofif wid ye ! Now tell me how 
you happened to be wid Mary O'Dwight 
last night? 

Pat [sitting down]. — Well, you see it hap- 
pened this way; ye know Mike O'Dwight 
is her brother, and he and me is blatherin' 
good friends, ye know; and as we was go- 
ing to Caltry the ither day, Mike says to 
me, says he: "Pat, what'll you take fur that 
dog?" and I says, says I— 

Nora [who has been listening earnestly]. 
— Bother you, Pat, but you are foolin' me 
again. 

Pat [coaxingly takes her hand]. — No — 
no — Nora — I'll tell ye the truth this time, 
sure. Well, as I was sayin', Mike and me is 
good friends; and Mike says, says he: "Pat, 
that's a good dog." "Yis," says I, "it is." 
And he says, says he: "Pat, it is a blather- 
in' good dog." "Yis," says" I; and then — 

and then- [Scratches his head as if to 

aid his imagination.] 

Nora [angrily snatching away hand]. 
■ — There! I'll not listen to another word! 



She sings. [Tune— "Rory O'Moore."] 
Oh, Patrick Murphy, be off wid you, pray, 
I been watching your pranks this many a 

day; 
You're false, and ye're fickle, as sure as I 

live 
And your hateful desaivin' I'll niver for- 
give. 
Ouch! do you think I was blind yester 

night. 
When you walked so fine with Mary 

O'Dwight? 
You kissed her, you rascal, and called her 

your own. 
And left me to walk down the dark lane 

alone. 
Pat [taking up song]. 
Oh, Nora, me darlint, be off wid your airs, 
For nobody wants you, and nobody cares! 
For you do want your Patrick, for don't 

you see. 
You could not so well love any but me. 
When my lips met Miss Mary's, now just 

look at me, 
I shut my eyes tight, just this way, don't 

you see? 

And when the kiss came, what did I do? 

I shut my eyes tight, and made believe it 

was you! 
Nora. 
Be off wid your nonsense^a word in your 

ear, 
Listen, my Patrick, be sure that you hear; 
Last night when Mike Duffy came here to 

woo. 
We sat in the dark, and made believe it was 

you— 
And when the kiss came, now just look at 

me,- — 
I shut my eyes tight, just this way, don't 

you see? 
And when our lips met, what did I do, 
But keep my eyes shut, and make belave it 



was you 



[Nora, laughing; Pat, disconcerted.] 



382 



DIALOGUES, TABLEAUX, ETC. 



PLAYING STORE. 



CHARACTERS. 




Five boys — Warren, Charlie, Tom, Sam 
and Ned. Two girls — Ida and Mary. 

Warren. — 

E'RE going to play at keeping 
shop, 

And I'm to be the clerk. 
These are the goods we have to sell ; 
To sell them is my work. 

You see I've dolls,, and tops, and caps, 
And marbles, cakes, and candy, 

Tin cups-, and knives, and oranges, 
And other things so handy. 

Now that I'm ready to begin, 

I hope the customers will come — 

The boys and girls to buy the goods 
And carry them off home. 

I think I see one coming now — 

Yes, there is Charlie Locke. 

[Charlie enters.] 
What can I sell you, sir, to-day? 

I've everything in stock. 

Charlie. — 
I'd like to see some marbles, please; 

How many for a dime? 

Warren. — 
As you are my first customer, 

I'll give you twelve this time. 
C— I'll take them. H^.— Shall I wrap them 
up? 

C. — No. W. — Let me put them, then, 
Into your pocket. C. — Here's your dime. 

Good-day. W. — Call in again. 

[Ida enters.] 

Ida.— 
Please, Mr. Storekeeper, I want 

An orange and a mint-stick. 
I have a tea-party at home 

And want the things for tea — quick! 



Please charge the bill. I have no time 

To pay for them to-day. 

Warren. — 
All right, all right; here are your goods — • 

To-morrow you can pay. 

[Mary enters and looks aro,tmd.] 

Warren. — 
What can I show you, miss, to-day ? 

I have some dolls quite low. 

Mary. — 
Well, you may show me some ; perhaps 

I'll buy — I do not know. 
[W. places dolls before her, and she selects 

one.] 

How much for this ? W. — A dollar, ma'am. 

Mary. — 

I think the price too high. 
I'll give you ninety-seven cents. 

Take that — or I'll not buy. 

Warren. — 
Well, take the doll at your own price 

[wraps and hands it to her], 
Tho' it really is worth more ; 
For here come lots of customers — 
Enough to buy the store. 

[Tom, Sam, and Ned enter.] 

Tom. — 
I want a nice, new tin cup. 

If you have one for sale ; 
For Jack took mine last Tuesday 

To tie to Rover's tail. 

Warren. — 
Well, you can take your choice, sir ; 

Of cups I have no lack ; 
And don't you want this riding-whip 

To lay on naughty Jack ? 

Tom. — 
I want to buy a good jack-knife, 
If vou have one to suit— 



DIALOGUES, TABLEAUX, ETC. 



383 



One that will sharpen pencils 
Or make a willow flute. 

Warren. — 
Here is the very article — 

The sharpest knife in town. 

Ned.— 
I want a polo-cap — the kind 

That's pretty much all crown. 

Warren. — 
In that I can just suit you, sir; 

This cap I know will do ; 
The price, too, is extremely low. 

Shall I wrap it up for you? 

Tom. — 
Here is the cash for my tin cup. 



Sam. — 

This for my knife will pay. 
Ned.— 
And here's the price you ask for this, 
My polo-cap so gay. 

Warren. — 
That's quite correct ! Just tarry, boys, 

'Tis time to shut up shop. 
Let's go and have a game of ball. 

Or else of spinning top. 

Tom. — 
Yes, yes, come on, for after all, 

Boys best like out-door plays, 
So let's be off, and leave the store 

For girls, or — rainy days. 

BE POLITE. 




HEN you meet a lady, 
f Take off your hat and bov . 
Perhaps you think you cannot ; 
If so, I'll show you how ! 
{Puts on cap and takes it off, bozvini 

If you're asked a question. 

Do not hang your head, 
And refuse to answer ; 

That is quite ill-bred. 



When you meet your school friends, 
Don't whoop and shout and yell ; 

A merry, bright "Good-morning" 
Should answer just as well. 

Don't think it manly to be rude. 
And by rough ways annoy ; 

Remember that a gentleman's 
A grown-up gentle boy. 



THE SNOW BRIGADE. 

Tune — "Yankee Doodle." 



Snow-paper, commonly used for Christ- 
mas trees, may be scattered around to rep- 
resent snow, and balls made of cotton be 
placed in it for the boys to use in the 
snow-balling. Also bits of the white paper 
m.ay be stuck with a little mucilage on their 
hats to represent snow-flakes. 
[Enter six or eight (or more) boys bearing 
shovels on their shoulders. Wooden 
shovels m.ay be used, as they are lighter.] 

E are a jolly set of boys. 

And we like fun and laughter ; 
But shoveling snow we like as well, 
And that is what we're after. 



Yes, we're jolly, ha, ha, ha! 

No one here need doubt it; 
That you may see how we do work, 

At once we'll set about it. 

We place our shovels in the snow, 

(suiting the action to the words) 

And then with rapid motion 
We fling the snow this way or that. 

Just as we have a notion. 
(Cease the motions, and rest both hands 
on the shovel, holding the shovels directly 
in front of them.) 
O, 'tis jolly, ha, ha, ha! 

To see- the soft snow flying — 



384 



DIALOGUES, TABLEAUX, ETC. 



And boys who've never shoveled snow 
Will find it worth the trying. 

(Resume the motion of shoveling.) 
See! The path is growing wide, 

But now our arms are aching 
(lay down the shovels and cross one arm 
over the other, holding them thus while 
they sing the next two lines), 
And while we rest them, where's the harm 

In boyish frolic taking? 
(Stooping down as though picking up 
snow, making snow-balls, and throwing 
them.) 
We throw the snow-balls, ha, ha, ha! 

Fast they i\y and faster; 
Look out for broken window-panes, 

Or other sad disaster. 

(Resume the shoveling.) 
Now to our work we turn again; 
With laugh and cheer we're greeted; 



Again we lay our shovels down 

(laying them down), 

Our work is quite completed. 
That is jolly, ha, ha, ha! 

And tho' our ears do tingle 
(rubbing their ears, or holding their hands 
over them), 
What care we for winter's cold, 

When work with play we mingle. 
(Picking up shovels and placing them on 
their shoulders.) 

And now before we march away. 

We ask you, friend and neighbor, 
To save your shoveling for the boys 

Who're not afraid of labor. 
We call ourselves the "Snow Brigade," 

And we have room for others; 
The little boys may fall in line. 

But not their great big brothers. 
(March out in line.) 



LOOKING AHEAD. 

(For any number of boys and girls.) 



Boys. — 

We now are but boys. 

Yet soon we'll be men, 
And what, do you think, 

Our work will be then? 

Some shall use hammer, and plane, and 

saw; (i) 
Others shall read weighty books of the 

law; (2) 
Some shall be farmers, and drive the plow, 

(3) 
Earning our bread by the sweat of our 

brow. 

Scattering seeds .and raking the hay, (4) 

Busy and happy, day after day. 

Some shall be doctors, and with well-bal- 
anced skill 

Shall heal all your aches, and send in our 
bill. (5) 



Some dentists shall be, and your molars 

pull out; (6) 
And aldermen, some, capaciously stout. (7) 
Some shall use awl, and waxed end, and 

last, (8) 
Sewing your shoes so strong and so fast. 
Some shall be bakers, and knead the soft 

dough; (9) 
Others clear glass in this manner shall 

blow; (10) 
Some with the hammer and anvil shall 

work, (11) 
And there is not among us, one who will 

shirk. 
For work is man's portion, and all must 

agree 
Without it, unhappy and useless we'd be. 



Girls. 



We're growing up, too. 



DIALOGUES, TABLEAUX, ETC. 



385 



And as you have heard 
What the boys mean to do 
We'll now say our word. 

Some shall be weavers, and with shuttle or 

spool, (12) 
Weave beautiful fabrics, of silk, cotton, or 

wool ; 
Some shall use needles, and stitch with 

such art, (13) 
That the sewing we do, will ne'er rip apart; 
Some shall use yardsticks and measure ofif 

well (14) 
Silks, muslins, or laces, which also will sell ; 
Some shall be teachers, and teach all we 

can (15) 
To our eager young pupils — on the latest 

new plan; 
Some shall do housework and scrub, 

sweep, and broil, (16) 
Making home pleasant, for some son of 

toil. 

1. The three motions of pounding, plan- 
ing, and sawing in quick succession. 

2. Left hand up, as if holding a book to 
read. 



3. Both hands closed lightly, and held 
out in front — hands bent down. 

4. Right hand makes the two motions of 
sewing and raking. 

5. Right hand held at quite a distance 
■above the left, as though holding a long 
bill. 

6. Motion of extracting a tooth. 

7. Hands clasped and held out in front, 
forming with the arms a semicircle. 

8. Motion with both hands of drawing in 
and out the waxed end. 

9. Doubled fists — kneading. 

10. Motion of blowing through a tube. 

11. Vigorous motion of striking the 
blacksmith's hammer on anvil. 

12. Motion of pushing shuttle — left and 
right. 

13. Movement of stitching with thumb 
and finger of right hand. 

14. A measuring movement, full length 
of the arms. 

15. Right hand half-way raised, with the 
forefinger out. 

16. Movements of scrubbing and sweep- 
ing in quick succession. 



TOM'S PRACTICAL JOKE. 



( Aunt Emma, 
Characters -' Tom, 
( Mary. 

Scene — A Sitting-room. 

(Aunt Emma seated with a book or sewing; 
Tom engaged in tying a broken w4iip or 
in some similar employment.) 

UNT EMMA.— And so your sister 
"will be here to-day, Tom. 
Tom. — Yes, ma'am, so she says in her 
letter to me, which I received yesterday. 

Aunt E. — I will be very glad to see her 
— very glad, indeed. It has been ten or 
twelve vears since I have seen the dear 



child. She could just lisp my name when 
last I saw her. I wonder if I will know 
her. 

Tom. — Well, you know you did not 
recognize me. Aunt Emma, and I suppose 
she has changed as much. 

Aunt E. — Yes, yes. But we must try to 
make her visit pleasant. What shall we do 
to amuse her. What are her tastes? 

Tom. — Well, you know, on account of 
her unfortunate infirmity 

Aunt E. — Infirmity! What infirmity? I 
did not know anything was wrong with 
her. 

Tom. — Is it possible I never told you 
she is deaf? 



386 



DIALOGUES, TABLEAUX, ETC. 



Aunt E. — Deaf! No, indeed. What a 
pity! 

Tom. — Oh, she can hear if you talk loud 
enough, and after she becomes accustomed 
to your voice you need not speak so loud 
as at first. 

Aunt E. — O Tom, it is such an effort 
for me to talk very loudly. Why don't she 
use an ear trumpet? 

Tom. — Mercy, Aunt, she is so sensitive 
on the subject that she will try to appear 
as if she were not deaf at all. 

Aunt E. — Dear! dear! how sad! Will 
she hear me if I speak in this tone? (Very 
loud.) Did you have a pleasant journey, 
Mary? 

Tom. — A little louder than that if you 
can^until she gets used to your voice, you 
know. 

Aunt E.— Well, I'll try, but it will be 
torture. I will go to my room to rest now. 
Call me if Mary should arrive. 

Tom. — Yes, Auntie. (Aunt E. goes out.) 
So far, so good! A capital joke, I think. 
I've written to Mary, giving her the idea 
that Aunt Emma is deaf, and telling her 
she will have to scream to make her hear, 
and now I've made Aunt Emma believe 
that Mary is deaf, and won't I have fun 
listening to them yell at each other! I 
haven't told any actual falsehood about it, 
either. Just giving them wrong impres- 
sions, that's all. Hallo! There comes 
Mary now. (Mary enters, dressed as 
though just from a journey. Tom steps 
forward and shakes hands with her.) Glad 
to see you, Mary. How do you do? 

Mary. — I'm well, and you, Brother Tom, 
how are you? 

Tom. — I'm pretty well, considering the 
wear and tear of talking to Aunt Emma. 

Mary. — O Tom, is she so very hard of 
hearing? 

Tom. — You will have to talk very loud 
indeed, to her. But I'll call her. (Goes 



to one side, and calls in a loud voice.) Aunt 
Emma, Aunt Emma, Mary has arrived. 
(To Mary.) Now, Mary, get your voice in 
order. 

Aunt Emma (outside.) — I'm coming, 
I'm coming to welcome my dear niece. 
(She enters, and approaches Mary and 
kisses her, while Tom backs off and hides 
behind some piece of furniture.) 

Aunt E. (very loud). — My dear child, 
I'm glad to see you. Had you a pleasant 
journey (still louder) a pleasant journey? 

Mary (aside). — What a loud voice Aunt 
has. (Very loud.) Yes, I enjoyed it very 
much (still louder), very much indeed. 

Aunt E. — Let me take your hat and coat. ' 
Are you tired, my dear? (Louder.) I said 
do you feel tired? (Takes Mary's hat and 
coat.) 

Mary. — No, not at all. (Louder.) Not 
at all. 

Aunt E. — And you had no difficulty in 
finding your way here alone? 

Mary. — Oh, no, why should I? (Louder.) 
No, of course not. 

Auntie. — I thought you might not be 
able to hear the train-men call the station, 
you know. 

Mary (aside). — Does she think every one 
else is deaf because she is? (Very loud.) 
Why; I could hear them perfectly well. 

Aunt E. — And do I speak loud enough 
for you? (Louder.) Can you hear me 
quite well? 

Mary. — Of course I can. And is my 
tone loud enough for you to hear? 

Aunt E. — Certainly. There is no trouble 
with my hearing. 

Mary (in her natural tone). — There isn't? 
Neither is there with mine. 

Aunt E. — Tom told me you were deaf. 

Mary. — And Tom wrote me you were 
deaf. It all reminds me of the old dialogue 
we used to read at school, called "Court- 



DIALOGUES, TABLEAUX, ETC. 



387 



ship Under Difficulties." We have been 
re-enacting that with variations, I think". 

Aunt E.— Well, well; I am glad that 
neither of us is deaf. But where is that 
mischievous boy? 

Mary. — He has taken himself off in good 
time to .avoid our reproaches. 



Tom (Coming forward and stepping be- 
tween them). — Here I am! Now scold 
away, both of you. (Then speaking very 
loudly, first in Aunt Emma's ear, then in 
Mary's.) Can you hear me? Can you hear 



me J 



[Exit all.] 



THE RAINY DAY. 



To be sung by three or four little girls, 
carrying raised umbrellas, and wearing 
gossamers .and rubbers. If preferred, this 
m.ay be given as a recitation by changing 
the word "sing" in the first line to ''speak." 



Tune — "I Want to be an Angel." 

And having on no rubbers, 
Walk this way, on tiptoe. 
(Taking a few steps very carefully on tip- 
toe.) 




E want to sing a little 
About a rainy day; 
You know when rain is pouring 

We can't go out to play. 
But we can go to school, of course, 

Dressed in this wet-day rig — 
Gum gossamers, thick rubbers, 
And these umbrellas big. 

We dare to laugh at people 

Who seem afraid of rain; 
Who, if out doors they venture 

Are sure to have a pain. 
(Placing left hands on chests, and wearing 
a distressed expression of countenance.) 
We've watched these silly people, 

And what we say is fact. 
And now we're going to tell you 

How we have seen them act. 
I s'pose they'd frown upon us, 

And shake their heads, this way, 
(giving a couple of decided negative shakes 
of the head). 
If they had any idea 

Of v/hat we're going to say. 

They mince along so slowly. 

With skirts uplifted, so 
(lifting the gossamer slightly, in front or 
at side), 



Of dogs they have such terror 

That if one comes in view 
They shake their big umbrella 
(making a quick, forward motion with the 
umbrella.) 

And scream out — "Shoo — sho-0-0 — 
shoo-o." 
(Prolonging the last two words, and giving 
them in the ordinary tone, rather than in 
singing.) 
Now, don't you think it's silly 

For big folks to act so? 
I wonder why they do it! 

We wouldn't (indicating themselves with 
their fingers) ; Oh, no! no! (ordinary tone 
and shaking the head slowly and decidedly.) 

Umbrellas now we'll lower 

(lowering them) 

For see the sun is out 
(pointing toward the sun) ; 
So we will throw our kisses 
(kissing the tips of their fingers) 

And turn us round about. 
(Turning and forming a line for marching 
out, singing as they go.) 
We will not cease our singing 

Until we've passed from sight. 
For singing, to us children, 

Is ever a delight. 




"NOBODY'S CHILD." 

Poem by Miss Pliila H. Case. 



SELECTIONS FOR THE CHILDREN. 

(^ t^ (^ 

Rhyme and Prose the Little Ones Will Enjoy— Sense and Nonsense of All Sorts. 

^ ^ ^ 



HE children should have all the room 
they want in this world, for they are 
entitled to it. They are the ones who are 
to constitute the next generation, and if we 
make their lives as happy as possible they 
will see to it that their children are made 
even happier, for kindness is progressive 
and is constantly increasing its circle of in- 
fluence as time goes on. 

A child without a home is a tiny straw 
upon the great ocean of life, destined sooner 
or later to be submerged by the mighty 
waves. A most thrilling description of 
the miseries and sufferings of the homeless 
ones is given in Miss Phila H. Case's touch- 
ing poem, "Nobody's Child," a beautifully 
artistic illustration of which appears on an- 
other page. Miss Case wrote these verses 
in 1867, her sympathies having been ap- 
pealed to by a wee girl she met on the street : 

Alone in the dreary, pitiless street, 
With my torn old dress, and bare, cold feet, 
All day I have wandered to and fro, 
Hungry and shivering, and no where to go ; 
The night's coming on in darkness and 

dread. 
And the chill sleet beating upon my bare 

head. 
Oh ! why does the wind blow upon me so 

wild? 
Is it because I am nobody's child? 



Just over the way there's a flood of light. 
And warmth and beauty, and all things 

bright ; 
Beautiful children, in robes so fair. 
Are caroling sOngs in their rapture there. 
I wonder if they, in their blissful glee, 
Would pity a poor little beggar like me. 
Wandering alone in the merciless street, 
Naked and shivering, and nothing to eat? 

Oh ! what shall I do when the night comes 

down. 
In its terrible blackness all over the town? 
Shall I lay me down 'neath the angry sky. 
On the cold, hard pavement, alone to die. 
When the beautiful children their prayers 

have said. 
And their mammas have tucked them up 

snugly in bed ! 
For no dear mother on me ever smiled— 
Why is it, I wonder, I'm nobody's child? 

No father, no mother, no sister, not one 

In all the world loves me, e'en the little dogs 
run 

When I wander too near them; 'tis won- 
drous to see, 

How everything shrinks from a beggar like 
me ! 

Perhaps 'tis a dream ; but sometimes, when 
I lie 



389 



390 



SELECTIONS FOR THE CHILDREK 



Gazing far up in the dark blue sky, 
Watching for hours some large, bright 

star, 
I fancy the beautiful gates are ajar. 

And a host of white-robed, nameless things. 
Come fluttering o'er me on gilded wings; 
A hand that is strangely soft and fair 
Caresses gently my tangled hair. 
And a voice like the carol of some wild 

bird— 
The sweetest voice that was ever heard — 

THE SNOW 

iH, see! the snow 
Is falling now — 
It powders all the trees; 

Its flakes abound, 

And all around, 
They float upon the breeze. 

'Tis snowing fast. 

And cold the blast; 
But yet I hope 'twill stay; — 

Oh, see it blow, 

The falling snow. 
In shadows far away! 



Calls me many a dear, pet name, 
Till my heart and spirit are all aflame. 

They tell me of such unbounded love, 
And bid me come up to their home above; 
And then with such pitiful, sad surprise. 
They look at me with their sweet, tender 

eyes. 
And it seems to me, out of the dreary night, 
I am going up to that world of light; 
And away from the hunger and storm so 

wild. 
I am sure I shall then be somebody's child. 

IS FALLING. 

Jack Frost is near — 

We feel him here — 
He's on his icy sled; 

And covered deep, 

The flowers sleep 
Beneath their snowy bed. 

Come out and play. 

This winter day, 
Amid the falling snow; 

Come, young and old. 

Nor fear the cold. 
Nor howling winds that blow. 



SOMETHING ABOUT FEBRUARY. 

ONTH of spatters, splash and thaw. 
Dreariest month I ever saw — 
Dirty, wet and tiresome, very- — 
February ! 



Another poet is more kind: 

Here comes jolly February, 

Month of storms and month of thaws ; 



Month when winter slips her fetters, 
Spite of Ice-King's sternest laws; 

Month when happy birds are mated. 
Month of sfood St. Valentine. 



Shortest month of all, we greet thee! 

Bring us clouds or bring us sun, 
Surely we all bid thee welcome. 

Month that gave us Washington! 



JUNE, FINEST OF MONTHS 

f-U-N-E — that's June, you know; 
The fairest of months to come and go. 
There are so many things to remember 

it by; 
The currants that shine by the garden 

walk ; 
The dear little birds that almost talk. 



The blithe little bees that rock as they 
please 

In the roses nodding on every stalk; 

The breezes frolicking high and low; 

And the meadows wide where the straw- 
berries hide 

On every side — that's June, you know. 



SELECTIONS FOR THE CHILDREN, 



391 



THE MONTHS OF THE YEAR. 



/pi HILDREN like to begin at the begin- 
\^ ning — except at the table, when they 
prefer the ice cream first — and therefore 
we think it better to start in with the first 
day of the New Year. 

The New Year comes in with shout and 

laughter. 
And see, twelve months are following after ! 

First, January, all in white. 
And February short and bright; 

See breezy March go tearing 'round ; 
But tearful April makes no sound. 

May brings a pole with flowers crowned, 
And June strews roses on the ground. 

A pop ! a bang ! July comes in ; 

Says August, "What a dreadful din!" 

September brings her golden sheaves; 
October waves her pretty leaves. 

While pale November waits to see 
December bring the Christmas tree. 



Sara Coleridge tells all about the months 
in this way: 

January brings the snow, 
Makes our feet and fingers glow. 



February brings the rain, 
Thaws the frozen lake again. 

March brings breezes sharp and chill, 
Shakes the dancing dafifodil. 

April brings the primrose sweet, 
Scatters daisies at our feet. 

May brings flocks of pretty lambs, 
Sporting round their fleecy dams. 

June brings tulips, lilies, roses. 
Fills the children's hands with posies. 

Hot July brings thunder showers, 
Apricots and gillyflowers. 

August brings the sheaves of corn, 
Then the harvest home is borne. 

Warm September brings the fruit, 
Sportsmen then begin to shoot. 

Brown October brings the pheasant, 
Then, to gather nuts is pleasant. 

Dull November brings the blast — 
Hark ! the leaves are whirling fast. 

Cold December brings the sleet. 
Blazing fire, and Christmas treat. 



HOW TO REMEMBER THE CALENDAR. 



SIXTY seconds make a minute. 
Something sure you can learn in it; 
Sixty minutes make an hour. 
Work with all your might and power. 

Twenty-four hours make a day. 
Time enough for work and play; 
Seven days a week will make ; 
You will learn if pains you take. 



Fifty-two weeks make a year, 
Soon a new one will be here; 
Twelve long months a year will make, 
Say them now without mistake. 

Thirty days hath gay September, 
April, June and cold November; 
All the rest have thirty-one ; 
February stands alone. 



SELECTIONS FOR THE CHILDREN. 



393 



Twenty-eight is all his share, 
With twenty-nine in each Leap- Year, 
That you may the Leap- Year know. 
Divide by four and that will show. 



In each year are seasons four. 
You will learn them I am sure; 
Spring and Summer, then the Fall; 
Winter last but best of all 



LILY'S MAY-DAY BALL. 



ILY gave a party, 

^ And her little playmates all, 
Gayly dressed, came in their best, 
To dance at Lily's ball. 

Little Quaker Primrose 

Sat and never stirred. 
And, except in whispers, 

Never spoke a word. 

Snowdrop nearly fainted 

Because the room was hot, 
And went away before the rest 

With sweet Forget-me-not. 

Pansy danced with Daffodil, 

Rose with Violet; 
Silly Daisy fell in love 

With pretty Mignonette. 

But when they danced the country-dance, 

One could scarcely tell 
Which of these danced the best — 

Cowslip or Heather-bell. 



Between the dances, when they all 
Were seated in their places, 

I thought I'd never seen before 
So many pretty faces. 

But of all the pretty maidens 

I saw at Lily's ball, 
Darling Lily was to me 

The sweetest of them all. 

And when the dance was over. 
They went downstairs to sup; 

And each had a taste of honey cake, 
With dew in a buttercup. 

And all were dressed to go away, 

Before the set of sun; 
And Lily said "good-by" and gave 

A kiss to every one. 

And before the moon or a single star 

Was shining overhead, 
Lily and all her little friends 

Were fast asleep in bed. 



MARCH LS CALLING TO YOU. 



(^f"ARCH! march! march! They are 

coming 

In troops to the tune of the wind — 
Red-headed wood-peckers drumming; 
Gold-crested thrushes behind: 



Sparrows in brown jackets, hopping 
Past every gateway and door; 

Finches with crimson caps stopping 
Just where they stopped years before. 



394 



SELECTIONS FOR THE CHILDREN. 



March! march! march! They will hurry 
Forth at the wild bugle-sound — 

Blossoms and birds in a flurry, 
Fluttering all over the ground. 



Hang out your flogs, birch and willow ! 

Shake out your red tassels, larch! 
Up, blades of grass, from your pillow! 

Hear who is calling you — March! 



THE FIRST DAY OF SPRING. 



|) INTER, adieu, your time is 
through ; 
Partings, they say, are often sad; 
Parting with you but makes me glad; 
Winter, adieu, adieu, adieu — 
No time for you. 

Winter, adieu, your time is through; 
Quickly away, I bid you go, 



Taking with you your ice and snow; 
Winter, adieu, adieu, adieu — ■ 
No time for you. 

Winter, adieu, your time is through; 
Hie you away, and quickly, too. 
Spring birds will come and laugh at you; 

Winter, adieu, adieu, adieu — 
No time for you. 



SONG OF THE APRIL SHOWER. 



ATTER, patter, let it pour, 
Patter, patter, let it roar; 
Down the steep roof let it rush, 
Down the hillside let it gush; 
'Tis the pleasant April shower 
Which will wake the sweet May flower. 

Patter, patter, let it pour. 
Patter, patter, let it roar; 
Let the vivid lightning flash. 



Let the heavy thunder crash, 
'Tis the welcome April shower 
Which will wake the swet May flower 

Patter, patter, let it pour, 

Patter, patter, let it roar; 

Soon the clouds will burst away. 

Soon will shine the bright spring day. 

Soon the welcome April shower 

Will awake the sweet May flower. 



YOU SHOULD PADDLE YOUR OWN CANOE. 



'^^ GYAGER upon Hfe's sea, 
f Vt To yourself be true; 
And where'er your lot may be, 

Paddle your own canoe. 
Never, though the winds may rave, 

Falter nor look back, 
But upon the darkest wave 

Leave a shining track. 

Nobly dare the wdldest storm. 
Stem the barest gale; 



Brave of heart and strong of arm, 

You will never fail. 
When the world is cold and dark 

Keep an end in view, 
And toward the beacon mark 

Paddle your own canoe. 

Every wave that bears you on 

To the silent shore. 
From its sunny source has gone 

To return no more; 



SELECTIONS FOR THE CHILDREN. 



395 



Then let not an hour's delay 

Cheat you of your due ; 
But while it is called to-day 

Paddle your own canoe. 

If your birth denied you wealth, 

Lofty state, and power, 
Honest fame and hardy health 

Are a better dower ; 
But if these will not suffice, 

Golden gain pursue, 
And to win the glittering prize 

Paddle your own canoe. 

Would you wrest the wealth of fame 

From the hand of fate ; 
Would you write a deathless name 

With the good and great ; 
Would you bless your fellow-men? 

Heart and soul imbue 



With the holy task, and then 
Paddle your own canoe. 

Would you crush the tyrant wrong 

In the world's fierce fight? 
With a spirit brave and strong 

Battle for the right ; 
And to break the chains that bind 

The many to the few— 
To enfranchise slavish mind. 

Paddle your own canoe. 

Nothing great is lightly won. 

Nothing won is lost ; 
Every good deed nobly done 

Will repay the cost. 
Leave to heaven, in humble trust, 

All you will to do ; 
But if you succeed you must 

Paddle your own canoe. 

—Mrs. Sarah Bolton. 



WHY CAN'T GIRLS WHISTLE? 



/p RANDMA GRUFF said a curious 
\^ thing : 

"Boys may whistle, but girls must sing. 
That's the very thing I heard her say 
To Kate, no longer than yesterday. 

"Boys may whistle." Of course they may, 
If they pucker their lips the proper way ; 
But for the life of me I can't see 
Why Kate can't whistle as well as me. 

"Boys may whistle, but girls must sing ;" 
Now I call that a curious thing. 
If boys can whistle, why can't girls, too? 
It's the easiest thing in the world to do. 



So if boys can whistle and do it well, 
Why cannot girls — will somebody tell ? 
Why can't they do what a boy can do ? 
That is the thing I should like to know. 

I went to father and asked him why 

Girls couldn't whistle as well as I, 

And he said, "The reason that girls must 

sing 
Is because a girl's a sing-ular thing." 

And grandma laughed till I knew she'd ache 
When I said I thought it all a mistake. 
"Never mind, little man," I heard her say, 
"They will make you whistle enough some 
day." 



THE BRAVEST BATTLE EVER FOUGHT. 



^P^HE bravest battle that ever was fought, 
e If Shall I tell you where and when ? 
On the maps of the world you'll find it not ; 
'Twas fought by the mothers of men. 



Nay, not with cannon or battle shot, 

With sword or nobler pen ; 
Nay, not with eloquent word or thought 

From mouth of wonderful men. 



396 



SELECTIONS FOR THE CHILDREN. 



But deep in a walled-up woman's heart- 
Of woman that would not yield, 

But bravely, silently bore her part — 
Lo ! there is the battle-field. 



No marshalling troop, no bivouac song. 
No banner to gleam and wave ! 

But oh, these battles, they last so long — 
From babyhood to the grave. 

— Joaquin Miller. 



NO PLACE FOR A BOY TO GO. 



1^ RANDPA says don't play in the house ; 
\^ He cannot bear the noise. 
Mamma says don't go out-of-doors ; 
It's damp for little boys. 



With two big don'ts, what shall I do ? 
I wish I had a world brand-new. 
Where not a single don't, all day. 
Could stop my fun or spoil my play ! 



GOD WANTS THE GIRLS. 

/^ OD wants the happy-hearted girls, 
^Jl The loving girls, the best of girls. 
The worst of girls — 
God wants to make the girls His pearls, 
And so reflect His holy face, 



And call to mind His wondrous grace, 
That beautiful the world may be. 
And filled with truth and purity — 
God wants the girls. 



WHAT THE GOLDEN-ROD SAID. 



a 



(iM OW in the world did I happen 
to bloom 
All by myself alone 
By the side of a dusty country road 
With only a rough old stone?" 

But all of a sudden the plant stopped short, 
For a child's voice cried in glee : 

"Here's a dear little lovely golden-rod. 
Did you bloom on purpose for me ? 

"Down by the brook the tall spirea 
And the purple asters nod, 



And beckon to me, but more than all 
Do I love you, golden-rod." 

She raised the flower to her rosy lips 

And merrily kissed its face. 
"Ah ! now I see," said the golden-rod, 

How this is the very place 

"That was meant for me ; and I'm glad I 
bloomed 

Just here by the road alone. 
With nobody near for company 

But a dear old mossy stone." 



IF I WERE A ROSE. 



F I were a rose 
On the garden wall, 
I'd look so fair, 
And grow so tall; 
I'd scatter perfume far and wide, 
Of all the flowers I'd be the pride. 
That's what I'd do 
If I were you, 
O little rose! 



Fair little maid. 

If I were you, 

I should always try 

To be good and true. 
I'd be the merriest, sweetest child, 
On whom the sunshine ever smiled. 

That's what I'd do 

If I were you. 

Dear little maid ! 



SELECTIONS FOR THE CHILDREN. 



397 



HOW THE CHILDREN ARE TAUGHT. 



AM it in, cram it in ; 

Children's heads are hollow, 
Slam it in, jam it in ; 
Still there's more to follow— 
Hygiene and history, 
Astronomic mystery, 
Algebra, histology, 
• Latin, etymology, 
Botany, geometry, 
Greek and trigonometry. 
Ram it in, cram it in ; 

Children's heads are hollow. 



Rap it in, tap it in ; 

What are teachers paid for ? 
Bang it in, slam it in ; 

What are children made for ; 
Ancient archaeology, 
Aryan philology, 
Prosody, zoology, 
Physics, clinictology, 



Calculus and mathematics, 
Rhetoric and hydrostatics. 
Hoax it in, coax it in ; 

Children's heads are hollow. 

Scold it in, mould it in ; 

All that they can swallow. 
Fold it in, mould it in ; 

Still there's more to follow. 
Faces pinched, and sad, and pale, 
Tell the same undying tale — 
Tell of moments robbed from sleep. 
Meals untasted, studies deep. 
Those who've passed the furnace through, 
With aching brow, will tell to you 
How the teacher crammed it in, 
Rammed it in, jammed it in. 
Crunched it in, punched it in, 
Rubbed it in, clubbed it in, 
Pressed it in, caressed it in, 
Rapped it in and slapped it in — 
When their heads were hollow. 



JUST A GLANCE AT THE BABY. 



jNE little row of ten little toes. 

To go along with a brand-new nose. 
Eight new fingers and two new thumbs. 
That are just as good as sugar-plums — 

That's baby. 

One little pair of round new eyes. 
Like a little owl's, so old and wise. 
One little place they call a mouth. 
Without one tooth from north to south — 

That's baby. 



Two little cheeks to kiss all day, 
Two little hands, so in his way, 
A brand-new head, not very big. 
That seems to need a brand-new wig — 

That's baby. 

Dear little row of ten little toes. 
How much we love them nobody knows ; 
Ten little kisses on mouth and chin. 
What a shame he wasn't a twin ! — 

That's baby. 



PATIENCE WILL WORK WONDERS. 



fF a string is in a knot. 
Patience will untie it. 
Patience can do many things; 
Did you ever try it ? 



If 'twas sold at any shop 

I should like to buy it ; 
But you and I must find our own ; 

No other can supply it. 



398 



SELECTIONS FOR THE CHILDREN. 



WHAT LITTLE THINGS CAN DO. 



TINY drop of water, 
Within the ocean lay, 
A coaxing sunbeam caught her, 

And bore her far away; 
Up, up — and higher still — they go. 
With gentle motion, soft and slow. 

A little cloud lay sleeping. 

Across the azure sky, 
But soon it fell a-weeping. 

As cold the wind rushed by, 
And cried and cried herself away ; 
It was a very rainy day. 

The little raindrops sinking. 

Ran trickling through the ground, 
And set the rootlets drinking, 

In all the country round, 



But some with laughing murmur, said, 
"We'll farther go," and on they sped. 

A little spring came dripping 
The moss and ferns among, 

A silver rill went tripping, 
And singing sweet along, 

And calling others to its side, 

Until it rolled — a river wide. 



And with the ocean blending, 

At last its waters run, 
Then is the story ending? 

Why, no! 'tis just begun. 
For in the ocean as before. 
The drop of wster lay once more. 



A SONG FOR YOUR BIRTHDAY. 



\Q)\ PON the day each child is born. 
Each year, so runs the tale. 
An angel in the early morn 
Its birthday comes to hail. 

HAVE ONLY GOOD 

fF anything unkind you hear 
About someone you know, my dear. 
Do not, I pray you, it repeat, 
When you that someone chance to meet ; 
For such news has a leaden way 
Of clouding o'er a sunny day. 



And for each deed of holy love 
That last year thou hast done, 

He brings a kiss from heaven above 
And seals thee for his own, 

WORDS FOR ALL. 

But if you something pleasant hear 

xA-bout someone you know, my dear, 

Make haste — to make great haste 'twere 

well^ 
To her or him the same to tell ; 
For such news has a golden way 
Of lighting up a cloudy day. 



WATCHING BABY AS IT SLEEPS 

Sleep, baby, sleep ! 

Thy father watches his sheep ; 
Thy mother is shaking the dreamland tree 
And down comes a little dream on thee. 

Sleep, baby, sleep! 



Sleep, baby, sleep! 
The large stars are the sheep ; 
The little stars are the lambs, I guess ; 



And the gentle moon is the shepherdess. 
Sleep, baby, sleep! 



Sleep, baby, sleep! 

Our Savior loves His sheep ; 
He is the Lamb of God on high. 
Who for our sakes came down to die. 

Sleep, baby, sleep! 



SELECTIONS FOR THE CHILDREN. 



399 



WHEN THE CHILDREN WOULD CRY. 



fF blue-birds bloomed like flowers in a 
row, 
And never could make a sound, 
How would the daisies and violets know 

When to come out of the ground ? 
They would wait, and wait, the season 
through. 
Never a flower on earth could be found. 



And what would birds and butterflies do, 
If the flowers had wings to fly ? 

Why, birds and blossoms, and butterflies, 
too, 
Would stay far up in the sky. 

And then the people would droop and sigh. 
And all the children on earth would cry. 



TWO KINDS OF POLLIWOGS. 



^m IGGLE, waggle, how they go, 
Jfw f Through the sunny waters, 
Swimming high and swimming low, 
Froggie's sons and daughters. 

What a wondrous little tail 

Each black polly carries. 
Helm and oar at once, and sail, 

That for wind ne'er tarries. 

Lazy little elves! at morn 

Never in a hurry, 
In the brook where they were born 

Business did not Worry. 

When the sun goes in they sink 

To their muddy pillow. 
There they lie and eat and drink 

Of soft mud their fill, oh. 

When has passed the gloomy cloud. 
And the storm is over, 



WHAT THE 

fiHE sun is not a-bed when I 
At night upon my pillow lie ; 
Still round the earth his way he takes. 
And morning after morning makes. 

While here at home, in shining day, 
We round the sunny garden play, 



Up they come, a jolly crowd, 
From their oozy cover. 

Wiggle, waggle, how they go! 

Knowing nothing better, 
Yet they are destined to outgrow 

Each his dusky fetter. 

Watch! they now are changing fast, 

Some unduly cherish 
The dark skin whose use is past, 

So they sink and perish. 

Others, of their new-birth pain 

Bitterly complaining. 
Would forego their unknown gain, 

Polliwogs remaining. 

There are other folk, to-day, 

Who, with slight endeavor, 
"Give it up," and so they stay 

Polliwogs forever. 

— Auo-usta Moore. 



BIG SUN SEES. 

Each little Indian sleepy-head 
Is being kissed and put to bed. 

And when at eve I rise from tea, 
Day dawns beyond the Atlantic sea; 
And all the children in the West 
Are getting up and being dressed. 

— Robert Louis Stevoison. 



400 



SELECTIONS FOR THE CHILDREN. 



THE MOON MAN'S MISTAKE. 



I HE man in the moon 
Who sails through the sky 
Is a most courageous skipper; 
Yet he made a mistake 
When he tried to take 

A drink of milk from the dipper. 



He dipped it into the "milky way," 
And slowly, cautiously filled it ; 

But the Great Bear growled. 

And the Little Bear howled 

And scared him so that he spilled it. 



NEVER THERE WHEN WANTED. 



^OMETIMES mamma calls me 

I wish I knew which one. 
But I always try to tell the truth, 
So I hope it's Washington. 



'Gen- 



But when I tell my papa that, 
He laughs loud as he can 



And says if she calls me general 
She must mean Sheridan. 



Because whenever she wants me, 

And I am out at play, 
I nearly always seem to be 

'Bout "twenty miles away." 



A GENTLEMAN. 



KNEW him for a gentleman 
By signs that never fail; 
His coat was rough and rather worn, 

His cheeks were thin and pale — 
A lad who had his way to make, 

With little time for play; 

I knew him for a gentleman 

By certain signs to-day. 

He met his mother on the street; 

Off came his little cap. 
My door was shut; he waited there 

Until I heard his rap. 
He took the bundle from ray hand, 

And when I dropped my pen, 
He sprang to pick it up for me — 

This gentleman of ten. 

WHAT A LOT 

IHREE hundred and sixty-five spick- 
span new, 
Beautiful presents for me and for you ! 



He does not push and crowd along; 

His voice is gently pitched; 
He does not fiing his books about 

As if he were bewitched. 
He stands aside to let you pass; 

He always shuts the door; 
He runs on errands willingly 

To forge and mill and store. 

He thinks of you before himself 

He serves you if he can; 
For, in whatever company, 

The manners make the man. 
At ten or forty, 'tis the same; 

The manner tells the tale, 
And I discern the gentleman 

By signs that never fail. 

— Margaret E. Sa)igster. 

OF PRESENTS! 

Fill them with kindness and sunshine, my 
honey, 

And you'll find these gifts better than play- 
things or money. 



SELECTIONS FOR THE CHILDREN. 



401 



JUST ONE 

|NLY a boy with his noise and fun, 
The veriest mystery under the sun ; 
As brimful of mischief and wit and glee, 
As ever a human frame can be. 
And as hard to manage— what ! ah me ! 
'Tis hard to tell. 
Yet we love him well. 



OF THE BOYS. 

Only a boy with his wild, strange ways, 
With his idle hours or his busy days. 
With his queer remarks and his odd replies^, 
Sometimes foolish and sometimes wise, 
Often brilliant for one of his size. 
As a meteor hurled 
From the planet world. 



Only a boy with his fearful tread. 
Who cannot be driven, must be led! 
Who troubles the neighbors' dogs and cats, 
And tears more clothes and spoils more hats, 
Loses more kites and tops and bats 

Than would stock a store 

For a week or more. 



Only a boy who may be a man 
If nature goes on with her first great plan — 
If intemperance or some fatal snare 
Conspires not to rob us of this our heir, 
Our blessing, our trouble, our rest, our care, 

Our torment, our joy! 

"Only a boy!" 



HOURS HAVE TOO FEW MINUTES. 



I IXTY questions make an hour, 
} One for every minute; 
And Neddy tries, with all his might, 
To get more questions in it. 

Sixty questions make an hour. 

And as for a reply; 
The wisest sage would stand aghast 

At Neddy's searching "Why?" 



Sixty questions make an hour, 
And childhood's hours are brief; 

So Neddy has no time to waste. 
No pauses for relief 

Sixty questions make an hour. 
Presto! Why, where is Ned? 

Alas, he's gone, and in his place 
A Question Point instead! 

— Pnscilla Leonard. 



"JUST COME HERE AND SCRATCH 

IAID the first little chicken, 
f With a queer little squirm, 
'T wish I could find 
A fat little worn." 



Said the next little chicken. 
With an odd little shrug, 
*T wish I could find 
A fat little bug." 

Said the third little chicken. 
With a sharp little squeal, 
*T wish I could find 

Some nice yellow meal." 



Said the fourth little chicken, 
With a small sigh of grief, 
'T wish I could find 
A green little leaf." 



Said the fifth little chicken. 
With a faint little moan, 
"I wish I could find 
A wee gravel stone," 

"Now, see here," said the mother. 
From the green garden patch, 

'Tf you want any breakfast. 
Just come here and scratch." 



402 



SELECTIONS FOR THE CHILDREN. 



KEEPING SCHOOL IN PLAY. 



I OME, Kitty dear, I'll tell you what 
f We'll do this rainy day; 
Just you and I, all by ourselves, 
At keeping school, will play. 

The teacher, Kitty, I will be; 

And yon shall he the class ; 
And you must close attention give, 

If you expect to pass. 

No, Kitty, "C-A-T" spells cat. 

Stop playing with your tail! 
You are so heedless, I am sure. 

In spelling you will fail. 

'C-A" oh, Kitty ! do sit still ! 
You must not chase that fly! 
You'll never learn a single word, 
You do not even try. 



I'll tell you what my teacher says 

To me most ev'ry day — 
She says that girls can never learn 

While they are full of play. 

So try again — another word; 

"L-A-C-E" spells "lace." 
Why, Kitty, it is not polite 

In school to wash your face! 

You are a naughty, naughty puss, 
And keep you in I should; 

But then, I love you, dear, so much 
I don't see how I could! 

Oh, see! the sun shines bright again! 

We'll run out doors and play; 
We'll leave our school and lessons for 

Another rainy day. 

— Kate Ulmer. 



THERE IS A SANTA GLAUS.' 



a 



DO not like that preacher man," 
She said, in tearful pause; 
'In"church to-day he really vowed 
'There is no Santa Claus!' 

"He shook his head mos' drefful like, 
Looked angry with his eyes. 

And said: * 'Twas very wrong, indeed, 
To teach a child such Hes.' " 

I soothed my little maiden s grief, 
And kissed away the tear ; 
And told again that sweet old tale 
The angels smile to hear. 

"There is a Santa Claus," I said, 

"Who comes in love's quaint guise; 
And gifts for every little child 
His wond'rous pack supplies." 



Oh, sanctimonious "preacher man," 

With visage melancholy, 
Be thine the sterner task to chide 

The world's sinful folly. 

But leave untouched the sunny realm 
Of childhood's guileless fancy; 

Time's gentler hand shall break the charm 
Of youth's sweet necromancy. 

Too soon the infant feet shall tread 

The rugged paths of life ; 
Too soon the aching heart shall know 

The burden of the strife. 

In His dear name, who didst of old 
Espouse the children's cause, 

May love be found in every heart, 
A real Santa Claus. 

—W. B. Reid. 



SELECTIONS FOR THE CHILDREN. 



403 



SHE DIDN'T WANT MUCH. 



f 



WANTS a piece of cal'co 

To make my doll a dess; 
I doesn't want a big piece; 

A yard'll do, I guess. 
I wish you'd fred my needle, 

And find my fimble, too — 
I has such heaps o' sewin' 

I don't know what to do. 

I wants my Maud a bonnet 

She hasn't none at all ; 
And Fred must have a jacket; 

His ozzer one's too small. 
I wants to go to grandma's; 

You promised me I might. 
I know she'd like to see me; 

I wants to go to-night. 

She lets me wipe the dishes, 
And see in grandpa's watch- 

I wish I'd free, four pennies 
To buy some butter-scotch. 



My Hepsy tored her apron 
A tum'lin down the stair, 

And Caesar's lost his pantloons. 
And needs anozzer pair. 

I wants some newer mittens — 

I wish you'd knit me some, 
'Cause most my fingers freezes, 

They leaks so in the fum. 
I wored 'em out last summer, 

A pullin' George's sled; 
I wish you wouldn't laugh so — 

It hurts me in my head. 

I wish I had a cookie ; 

I'm hungry's I can be. 
If you hasn't pretty large ones, 

You'd better bring me free. 
I wish I had a p'ano — 

Won't you buy me one to keep? 
O, dear! I feels so tired, 

I wants to go to sleep. 

— Grace Gordon. 



ALWAYS TROUBLE SUNDAY MORNIN'. 




mornm 



comes 



HEN Sunday 
around 
My pa hangs up his strop, 
An' takes his razor out an' makes 

It go c'fiop! c'flop! 
An' then he gits his mug an' brush 

An' yells t' me, "Behave!" 
I tell y'u, things is mighty still — 
When pa begins t' shave. 



Then pa he stirs his brush around 

An' makes th' soapsuds fly; 
An' sometimes, when he stirs too hard, 

He gits some in his eye. 
I tell y'u, but it's funny then 

To see pa stamp and rave; 
But y'u mustn't git ketched lafifin' — 

When pa begins t' shave. 



Th' hired hand he dassent talk, 

An' even ma's afeared. 
An' y'u can hear th' razor click 

A-cuttin' through pa's beard! 
An' then my Uncle Bill he lafifs 

An' says: "Gosh! John, you're brave," 
An' pa he swears, an' ma jest smiles — 

When pa begins t' shave. 

When pa gits done a-shavin' of 

His face, he turns around, 
And Uncle Bill says: "Why, John, 

Yu'r chin looks hke plowed ground!" 
An' then he lafifs — jest laffs an' lafifs, 

But I got t' behave, 
Cos things's apt to happen quick — 

When pa begins t' shave. 

— Harry Douglass Rohbins. 



404 



SELECTIONS FOR THE CHILDREN. 



JACK, THE LITTLE TORMENT. 



MY name's Jack. I'm eight years old, 
I've a sister Arathusa, and she calls 
me a little torment. I'll tell you why: You 
know Arathusa has got a beau, and he 
comes to see her every night, and they turn 
the gas 'way, 'way down 'till you can't 
hardly see. I like to stay in the room with 
the gas on full blaze, but Arathusa skites 
me out of the room every night. 

I checked her once, you better believe. 
You know she went to the door to let Al- 
phonso in, and I crawled under the sofa. 
Then they came in, and it got awful dark, 
and they sat down on the sofa, and I 
couldn't hear nothing but smack! smack! 
smack! Then I reached out and jerked 
Arathusa's foot. Then she jumped and 
said, "Oh, mercy, what's that?" and Al- 
phonso said she was a "timid little crea- 
ture." "Oh, Alphonso, I'm happy by your 
side, but when I think of your going away 
it almost breaks my heart." 



Then I snickered right out,' I couldn't 
help it, and Arathusa got up, went and 
peeked through the keyhole and said, "I 
do believe that's Jack, nasty little torment, 
he's always where he isn't wanted." Do 
you know this made me mad, and I crawled 
out from under the sofa and stood up be- 
fore her and said, "You think you are smart 
because you have got a beau. I guess I 
know what you've been doing; you've been 
sitting on Alphonso's lap, and letting him 
kiss you like you let Bill Jones kiss you. 
You ought to be ashamed of yourself. If 
it hadn't been for that old false front of 
yours, Pa would have let me have a bicycle 
like Tom Clififord's. You needn't be grind- 
ing them false teeth of yours at me, I ain't 
a-going out of here. I ain't so green as I 
look. I guess I know a thing or two. I 
don't care if you are twenty-eight years old, 
you ain't no boss of me!" 



FATE OF THE DISCONTENTED CHICKEN. 



P^ HERE was a little chicken that was 
shut up in a shell, 
He thought to himself, "I'm sure I cannot 

tell 
What I am walled in here for — a shocking 

coop I find. 
Unfitted for a chicken with an enterprising 
mind." 

He went out in the barnyard one lovely 
morn in May, 

Each hen he found spring-cleaning in the 
only proper way; 

"This yard is much too narrow — a shock- 
ing coop I find, 

Unfitted for a chicken with an enterprising 
mind." 

He crept up to the gateway and slipped 
betwixt a crack, 



The world stretched wide before him, and 
just as widely back; 

"This world is much too narrow — a shock- 
ing coop I find. 

Unfitted for a chicken with an enterprising 
mind. 

"I should like to have ideals, I should like 
to tread the stars. 

To get the unattainable, and free my soul 
from bars; 

I should like to leave this dark earth, and 
some other dwelling find 

More fitted for a chicken with an enterpris- 
ing mind. 

"There's a place where ducks and pleasure 
boats go sailing to and fro, 



SELECTIONS FOR THE CHILDREN. 



40: 



There's one world on the surface and an- 
other world below." 

The little waves crept nearer and, on the 
brink inclined, 



TAKE 



They swallowed up the chicken with an 
enterprising mind. 

—A. G. Waters. 



WARNING BY IDLE BEN 

fDLE Ben was a naughty boy; 
(If you please, this story's true;) 
He caused his teachers great annoy, 
And his worthy parents, too. 



Idle Ben, in a boastful way, 

To his anxious parents told, 
That, while he was young, he thought he'd 
play, 

And he'd learn when he grew old. 

"Ah, Ben!" said his mother, and dropped 
a tear, 
"You'll be sorry for this by-and-by." 



Says Ben, "To me, that's not very clear, 
But at any rate I'll try." 



So Idle Ben, he refused to learn. 

Thinking that he could wait; 
But, when he had his living to earn. 

He found it was just too late. 

Little girls, little boys, don't delay your 
work ; 
Some day you'll be women and men: 
Whenever your task you're mclined to 
shirk, 
Take warning by Idle Ben. 



THE HOLE HE HAD IN HIS POCKET. 



/pj UESS what he had in his pocket. 

\^ Marbles and tops and sundry toys 
Such as always belong to boys, 
A bitter apple, a leathern ball? — 
Not at all. 

What did he have in his pocket? 
A bubble-pipe, and a rusty screw, 
A brass watch-key, broken in two, 
A fish-hook in a tangle of string? — 
No such thing. 



What did he have in his pocket? 
Ginger-bread crumbs, a whistle he made, 
Buttons, a knife with a broken blade, 
A nail or two and a rubber gun? — 
Neither one. 

What did he have in his pocket ? 
Before he knew it slyly crept 
Under the treasures carefully kept. 
And away they all of them quickly stole— 
'Twas a hole! 

— Sidney Dayre. 



STORY OF THE MONEY-MAKING COBBLER. 



WAGGISH cobbler once in Rome, 
'iQ'\ Put forth this proclamation. 
That he was willing to disclose 

For due consideration, 
A secret which the cobbling world 

Could ill afford to lose; 
The way to make in one short day 
A hundred pairs of shoes. 



From every quarter soon there came 

A crowd of eager fellows ; 
Tanners, cobblers, bootmen, shoemen. 

Jolly leather sellers, 
All redolent of beef and smoke. 

And cobbler's wax and hides; 
Each fellow paid his thirty pence 

And called it cheap besides. 



4o6 



SELECTIONS FOR THE CHILDREN. 



Silence! The cobbler enters 

And casts around his eyes, 
Then curls his lips — the rogue! — then 
frowns, 

And looks most wondrous wise; 
"My friends," he says, " 'tis simple quite, 

The plan that I propose ; 
And every man of you, I think. 

Might learn it if he chose. 



A good sharp knife is all you need 

In carrying out my plan; 
So easy is it none can fail 

Let him be child or man. 
To make a hundred pairs of shoes. 

Just go back to your shops, 
And take a hundred pairs of boots 

And cut ofif all their tops!" 



COULDN'T DO WITHOUT BESSIE. 



i£ 



^^I^ES, Bridget has gone to the city, 
f I f And papa is sick, as you see, 
And mamma has no one to help her 
But two-year old Lawrence and me. 

"You'd like to know what I am good for, 
'Cept to make work and tumble things 
down ; 

I guess there aren't no little girlies 
At your house at home. Dr. Brown. 

"I've brushed all the crumbs from the table, 
And dusted the sofa and chairs, 

I've polished the hearthstone and fender. 
And swept ofif the area stairs. 

"I've wiped all the silver and china. 

And just dropped one piece on the floor; 



Yes, Doctor, it broke in the middle, 
But I 'spect it was cracked before. 

"And the steps that I saved precious 
mamma! 
You'd be s'prised, Doctor Brown, if you 
knew. 
She says if it wasn't for Bessie 

She couldn't exist the day through! 

"It's 'Bessie, bring papa some water!' 
And 'Bessie dear, run to the door!' 

And 'Bessie love, pick up the playthings 
The baby has dropped on the floor!' 

"Yes, Doctor, I'm 'siderably tired, 
I've been on my feet all the day; 

Good-bye! well, perhaps I will help you 
When your old Bridget 'goes ofif to 
stay!'" 



SHE GOT TIRED OF POPPING CORN. 



ND there they sat, a popping corn, 
1(sj\ John Styles and Susan Cutter — 
John Styles as fat as any ox 
And Susan fat as butter. 

And there they sat and shelled the corn, 
And raked and stirred the fire. 

And talked of different kinds of care, 
And hitched their chairs up nigher. 

Then Susan she the popper shook. 
Then John he shook the popper, 



Till both their faces grew as red 
As saucepans made of copper. 

And then they shelled, and popped and ate, 

All kinds of fun a-poking. 
While he haw-hawed at her remarks, 

And she laughed at his joking. 

And still they popped, and still they ate— 
John's mouth was like a hopper — 

And stirred the fire and sprinkled salt. 
And shook and shook the popper. 



SELECTIONS FOR THE CHILDREN. 



407 



The clock struck nine — the clock struck 
ten, 

And still the corn kept popping; 
It struck eleven, and then struck twelve, 

And still no signs of stopping. 

And John he ate, and Sue she thought — 
The corn did pop and patter — 



Till John cried out, "The corn's afire! 
Why, Susan, what's the matter?" 

Said she, "John Styles, it's one o'clock; 

You'll die of indigestion; 
I'm sick of all this popping corn — 

Why don't you pop the question?" 



WAITING AT THE LADDER'S FOOT. 



HAVE seen the first robin of Spring, 
mother dear, 
And have heard the brown darling sing; 
You said, "Hear it and wish, and 'twill 

surely come true," 
So I've wished such a beautiful thing. 

I thought I would like to ask something for 
you. 
But couldn't think what there could be 
That you'd want, while you had all these 
beautiful things; 
Besides you have papa and me. 

So I wished for a ladder, so long that 
'twould stand 
One end by our own cottage door, 
And the other go up past the moon and 
the stars. 
And lean against heaven's white floor. 

Then I'd get you to put on my pretty white 

dress. 

With my sash and my darling new shoes; 

And I'd find some white roses to take up 

to God, 

The most beautiful ones I could choose. 

And you, dear papa, would sit on the 
ground, 
And kiss me, and tell me "good-bye;" 
Then I'd go up the ladder, far out of your 
sight. 
Till I came to the door in the sky. 



I wonder if God keeps the door fastened 
tight? 
If but one little crack I could see, 
I would whisper, "Please, God, let this little 
girl in, 
She's as weary and tired as can be. 

"She came all alone from the earth to the 
sky, 
For she's always been wantmg to see 
The gardens of heaven, with their robins 
and flowers; 
Please, God, is there room there for me?" 

And then when the angels had opened the 
door, 
God would say, "Bring the little child 
here." 
But He'd speak it so softly, I'd not be 
afraid. 
And He'd smile just like you, mothei 
dear. 

He would put His kind arms round your 

dear little girl, 

And I'd ask Him to send down for you, 

And papa, and cousin, and all that I love — 

Oh, dear, don't you wish 'twould come 

true? 

The next Spring time, when the robins 
came home. 
They sang over grasses and flowers, 
That grew where the foot of the long lad- 
der stood. 
Whose top reached the heavenly bowers. 



4o8 



SELECTIONS FOR THE CHILDREN. 



And the parents had dressed the pale, still 
child 
For her flight to the Summer land, 
In a fair white robe, with one snow-white 
rose 
Folded tight in her pulseless hand. 



And now at the foot of the ladder they sit, 
Looking upward with quiet tears, 

Till the beckoning hand and the fluttering 
robe 
Of the child at the top re-appears. 



SHE SANG TO HIM OF HEAVEN. 



fN a dark and dismal alley where the 
sunshine never came. 
Dwelt a little lad named Tommy, sickly, 

delicate and lame; 
He had never yet been healthy, but had 

lain since he was born. 
Dragging out his weak existence well nigh 
hopeless and forlorn. 

He was six, was little Tommy, 'twas just 

five years ago 
Since his drunken mother dropped him, 

and the babe was crippled so. 
He had never known the comfort of a 

mother's tender care, 
But her cruel blows and curses made his 

pain still worse to bear. 

There he lay within the cellar from the 

morning till the night, 
Starved, neglected, cursed, ill-treated, 

naught to make his dull life bright ; 
Not a single friend to love him, not a livmg 

thing to love — 
For he knew not of a Saviour, or a heaven 

up above. 

'Twas a quiet summer evening; and the 

alley, too, was still; 
Tommy's little heart was sinking, and he 

felt so lonely, till, 
Floating up the quiet alley, wafted inwards 

from the street, 
Came the sound of some one singing, 

sounding, oh! so clear and sweet. 



Eagerly did Tommy hsten as the singing 

nearer came — 
Oh! that he could see the singer! How he 

wished he wasn't lame. 
Then he called and shouted loudly, till the 

singer heard the sound, 
And, on noting whence it issued, soon the 

little cripple found. 

Twas a maiden, rough and rugged, hair 
unkempt and naked feet, 

All her garments torn and ragged, her ap- 
pearance far from neat; 

"So yer called me," said the maiden, "won- 
der wot yer wants o' me; 

Most folks call me Singing Jessie; wot may 
your name chance to be?" 

"My name's Tommy; I'm a cripple, and I 

want to hear you sing. 
For it makes me feel so happy — sing me 

something, anything." 
Jessie laughed, and answered, smiling, "I 

can't stay here very long, 
But I'll sing a hymn to please you, wot I 

calls the 'Glory song.' " 

Then she sang to him of Heaven, pearly 

gates and streets of gold. 
Where the happy angel children are not 

starved or nipped with cold ; 
But where happiness and gladness never 

can decrease or end, 
And where kind and loving Jesus is their 

Sovereign and their Friend, 



SELECTIONS FOR THE CHILDREN. 



409 



Oh! how Tommy's eyes did glisten as he 

drank in every word 
As it fell from "Singing Jessie" — was it 

true, what he had heard? 
And so anxiously he asked her: "Is there 

really such a place?" 
And a tear began to trickle down his pallid 

little face. 

*'Tommy, you're a little heathen; why, it's 

up beyond the sky, 
And if yer will love the Saviour, yer shall 

go there when yer die." 
"Then," said Tommy; "tell me, Jessie, 

how can I the Saviour love, 
When I'm down in this 'ere cellar, and he's 

up in Heaven above?" 

So the little ragged maiden who had heard 

at Sunday-school 
All about the way to Heaven, and the 

Christian's golden rule, 
Taught the little cripple Tommy how to 

love and how to prtiy, 
Then she sang a "Song of Jesus," kissed 

his cheek and went away. 

Tommy lay within the cellar which had 
grown so dark and cold, 

Thinldng all about the children in the 
streets of shining gold; 

And he heeded not the darkness of that 
damp and chilly room, 

For the joy in Tommy's bosom could dis- 
perse the deepest gloom. 

*'0h! if I could only see it," thought the 

cripple, as he lay. 
"Jessie said that Jesus listens and I think 

I'll try and pray;" 
So he put his hands together, and he closed 

his little eyes, 
And in accents weak, yet earnest, sent this 

message to the skies: 



"Gentle Jesus, please forgive me, as I didn't 

know afore, 
That yer cared for little cripples who is 

weak and very poor. 
And I never heard of Heaven till that Jessie 

came to-day 
And told me all about it, so I wants to try 

and pray. 

"You can. see me, can't yer, Jesus? Jessie 

told me that yer could, 
And I somehow must believe it, for it seems 

so prime and good; 
And she told me if I loved you, I should 

see yer when I die. 
In the bright and happy heaven that is up 

beyond the sky. 

"Lord, I'm only just a cripple, and I'm no 

use here below. 
For I heard my mother whisper she'd be 

glad if I could go; 
And I'm cold and hungry sometimes; and 

I feel so lonely, too, 
Can't yer take me, gentle Jesus, up to 

Heaven along o' you? 

"Oh, I'd be so good and patient, and I'd 

never cry or fret ; 
And yer kindness to me, Jesus, I would 

surely not forget ; 
I would love you all I know of, and would 

never make a noise — 
Can't you find me just a corner, where I'll 

watch the other boys? 

"Oh! I think yer'll do it, Jesus, something 
seems to tell me so, 

For I feel so glad and happy, and I do so 
want to go; 

How I long to see yer, Jesus, and the chil- 
dren all so bright! 

Come and fetch me, won't yer, Jesus? 
Come and fetch me home to-night!" 



410 



SELECTIONS FOR THE CHILDREN. 



Tommy ceased his supplication, he had 

told his soul's desire. 
And he waited for the answer till his head 

began to tire; 
Then he turned towards his corner, and lay 

huddled in a heap. 
Closed his little eyes so gently, and was 

quickly fast asleep. 

Oh, I wish that every scofifer could have 

seen his little face 
As he lay there in the corner, in that damp 

and noisome place; 
For his countenance was shining like an 

angel's, fair and bright, 
And it seemed to fill the cellar with a holy, 

heavenly light. 

He had only heard of Jesus from a ragged 

singing girl, 
He might well have wondered, pondered, 

till his brain began to whirl; 



But he took it as she told it, and believed 

it then and there, 
Simply trusting in the Saviour, and His 

kind and tender care. 

In the morning, when the mother came to 

wake her cripple boy. 
She discovered that his features wore a 

look of sweetest joy. 
And she shook him somewhat roughly, but 

the cripple's face was cold — 
He had gone to join the children in the 

streets of shining gold. 

Tommy's prayer had soon been answered, 
and the Angel Death had come 

To remove him from his cellar, to his 
bright and heavenly home 

Where sweet comfort, joy and gladness 
never can decrease or end. 

And where Jesus reigns eternally, his Sov- 
ereign and his Friend. 

-/. F. Nichols. 



ABOUT READY TO SHOW OFF. 




IND friends and dear parents, we 
|{§^ welcome you here 
To our nice pleasant school-room, and 

teacher so dear; 
We wish but to show how much we have 

learned, 
And how to our lessons our hearts have 
been turned. 

But hope you'll remember we all are quite 

young, 
And when we have spoken, recited, and 

sung, 



You will pardon our blunders, which, as all 

are aware. 
May even extend to the president's chair. 



Our life is a school-time, and till that shall 

end. 
With our Father in heaven for teacher and 

friend. 
Oh, let us perform well each task that is 

given. 
Till our time of probation is ended in 

heaven. 



THE GEOGRAPHY DEMON. 



HATE my geography lesson! 

It's nothing but nonsense and names 
To torture me so every morning, 
I think it's the greatest of shames. 



The brooks they flow into the rivers. 
And the rivers flow into the sea; 

For my part I hope they enjoy it, 
But what does it matter to me? 



SELECTIONS FOR THE CHILDREN. 



411 



Of late, even more I've disliked it, 
And more disagreeable it seems. 

Ever since that sad evening last winter, 
When I had the most frightful of dreams. 

I thought that a great horrid monster 
Stood suddenly there in my room — 

A frightful Geography Demon, 
Enveloped in darkness and gloom; 

His body and head like a mountain, 

A volcano on top for a hat; 
His arms and his legs were like rivers, 

With a brook round his neck for cravat. 

He laid on my poor trembling shoulder 
His fingers, cold, clammy and long; 

And fixing his red eyes upon me. 
He roared forth this horrible song: 

"Come! come! rise and come 
Away to the banks of the Muskingum ! 
It flows o'er the plains of Timbuctoo, 
With the peak of Teneriflfe just in view. 
And the cataracts' leap in the pale moon- 
shine. 
As they dance o'er the clififs of the Brandy- 
wine. 

"Flee! flee! rise and flee 
Away to the banks of the Tombigbee! 
We'll pass by Alaska's flowery strand, 
Where the emerald towers of Pekin stand ; 
We'll pass them by and will rest awhile 
On Michillimackinac's tropic isle; 
While the apes of Barbary frisk around. 
And the parrots crow with a lovely sound. 

"Hie! hie! rise and hie 

Away to the banks of Yangtzeki! 



Where the giant mountains of Oshkosh 
stand, 

And the icebergs gleam through the fall- 
ing sand; 

While the elephant sits on the palm tree 
high 

xA.nd the cannibals feast on bad boy pie. 

"Go! go! rise and go 

Away to the banks of the Hoangho; 

There the Chickasaw sachem makes his 

tea, 
And the kettle boils and waits for thee. 
We'll smite thee ho! and we'll lay thee low, 
On the beautiful banks of the Hoangho!" 

These horrible words were still sounding 
Like trumpets and drums through my 
head. 
When the monster clutched tighter my 
shoulder. 
And dragged me half out of the bed. 

In terror I clung to the bedpost; but the 

Faithless bedpost it broke; 
I screamed out aloud in my anguish. 

And suddenly, — well, I awoke! 

He was gone, but I cannot forget him. 
That fearful geography sprite, 

He has my first thought in the morning, 
He has my last shudder at night. 

Do you blame me for hating my lesson? 

Is it strange that it frightful should 

seem? 

Or that I more and more should abhor it 

Since I had that most horribje dream? 

— Anonymous. 



GOLDEN HAIR. 



/p OLDEN HAIR sat on her grand- 
\^ father's knee ; 
Dear little Golden Hair, tired was she, 
All the day busy as busy could be. 



Up in the morning as soon as 'twas light. 
Out with the birds and the butterflies 

bright. 
Flitting about till the coming of night. 



412 



SELECTIONS FOR THE CHILDREN. 



Grandfatiier toyed with the curls on her 

Kead ; 
"What has my baby been doing," he said, 
"Since she arose with the sun from her 

bed?" 

"Pitty much," answered the sweet little 

one; 
"I cannot tell so much things have I done; 
Played with my dolly, and feeded my 

'bun.' 

"And then I jumped with my little jump- 
rope. 
And I made out of some water and soap 
Bootiful worlds, mamma's castles of hope. 

"Ihen I have readed in my picture-book. 
And Bella and I, we went to look 
For the smooth little stones by the side of 
the brook. 

"And then I corned home and eated my 
tea. 



And I climbed up on grandpapa's knee, 
And I jes as tired as tired can be." 

Lower and lower the little head pressed, 
Until it had dropped upon grandpapa's 

breast; 
Dear little Golden Hair, sweet be thy rest! 

We are but children; things that we do 
Are as sports of a babe to the Infinite view, 
That marks all our weakness, and pities it, 
too. 

God grant that when night overshadows 

our way, 
And we shall be called to account for our 

day, 
He shall find us as guileless as Golden 

Hair's lay. 

And O, when aweary, may we be so ble&t, 
And feel ourselves clasped to the Infinite 
breast ! 

— Anonymous. 



"THE MOON-MAN." 



fHE Moon-man keeps a great big 
book. 
Where it says what the children do, 
If you're very good, he'll give you a peep. 
But he lets me look right through. 

The moon is the house where the Moon- 
man lives. 

And he sits and writes all day ; 
When he wants to visit another land. 

He just lets the moon sail away. 

He Sits at his window all day long, 

And hears what the children say; 

He sees them eat, he sees them sleep, 

And he watches them at his play. 



If the babies cry and the children quarrel, 
And the boys and girls are bad. 

He hides his face in a big black cloud, 
And he cries 'cause he feels so bad. 



But when the children are very good. 

And never begin to cry. 
He feels so glad that he takes a ride. 

Right over the bright blue sky. 



Then, when ihc cliildr.ciii are all asleep. 
And he doesn't know what to do, 

He lays his head on a soft, white cloud. 
For he gets sleepy, too. 



SELECTIONS FOR THE CHILDREN. 



413 



But once — when a dear little baby died — 
And went where the angels sing. 

The Moon-man saw when it flew to heaven, 
And he put on a golden ring. 



The ring round the moon is the Moon- 
man's crown, 
And when there are stars in the crown, 
It shows when the dear little baby went up, 
One of God's angel babies came down. 
— Ehna Binvcniaii. 



A CHILD'S PLEA. 



THINK the world is really sad, 
I can do nothing but annoy; 
For little boys are all born bad, 
And I am born a little boy. 

It doesn't matter what's the game. 
Whether it's Indians, trains or ball; 

I always know I am to blame. 
If I amuse myself at all. 

I said one day on mother's knee, 
"If you would send us right away 

To foreign lands across the sea, 
You wouldn't see us every day. 

"We shouldn't worry any more, 

In those strange lands with queer new 
toys; 



But here we stamp, and play, and roar, 
And wear your life ouc wath our noise, 

"The savages would never mind, 
And you'd be glad to have us go 

There, nobody would be unkind, 
For you dislike your children so." 

Then mother turned, and looked like red, 
I do not think she could have heard ; 

She put me ofT her knee instead 
Of answering me a single word. 

She went, and did not even nod. 
What had I said that could annoy? 

Mothers are really very odd 
If you are born a li^^tle boy. 

— Anonyinous. 



MY LITTLE BOY. 



LITTLE boy, my little boy. 

Why do you stay so long? 

The night is here, with shadows drear, 

'Tis time for rnother's song. 
The cheering crowds have gone away, 

The streets are still and dead, 
Why do you stay so long at play, 
'Tis more than time for bed? 

A great, great day this day has been, 

'Tis writ in blood and flame, 
And in the papers that they brought 

I read your precious name. 
Your name, my boy — O little boy — 



What do you know of war? 
Could God have meant the 
kissed 
Should wear a battle scar? 



brow I've 



O little boy — my little boy, 

They tell me you have grown; 
But, dear, 'twas only yesterday 

You could not stand alone. 
How could those tender, clinging hands 

A heavy rifle bear? 
You were too tired to march, I know, 

And so they left you there. 



414 



SELECTIONS FOR THE CHILDREN. 



O little boy — my little boy, 

You've rested all the day, 
Wake up — the game is played and won, 

'Tis time you came away. 
The country has a million arms 

To claim the nation's due, 
A million hearts to bleed and break, 

But I have only you. 



Wake up — wake up! — the hour is late, 

You should not tarry there; 
The night is dark on San Juan hill, 

Too dark for hope or prayer. 
Wake up — my arms are opened wide 

To welcome you with joy. 
And still you sleep — and sleep — and sleep, 

O little, little boy! 

— Cecil Joyce. 



"ONE, TWO, THREE." 



T was an old, old, old, old lady, 
And a boy who was half-past three ; 
And the way that they played together 
Was beautiful to see. 

She couldn't go running and jumping, 
And the boy no more could he. 

For he was a thin little fellow, 
With a thin, little, twisted knee. 

They sat in the yellow sunlight. 

Out under the maple tree ; 
And the game they played, I'll tell you, 

Just as it was told to me. 

It was Hide-and-Go-Seek they were play- 
ing, 

Though you'd never known it to be, 
With an old, old, old, old lady. 

And a boy with a twisted knee. 

The boy would bend his face down. 
On his one little sound right knee, 

And he'd guess where she was hiding. 
In guesses One, Two, Three! 

"You are in the china-closet!" 

He would cry, and laugh with glee, 



It wasn't the china-closet. 

But he still had Two and Three. 

"You are up in Papa's big bedroom. 
In the chest with the queer old key!" 

And she said: "You are warm and 
warmer; 
But you're not quite right," said she. 

"It can't be the little cupboard. 

Where Mamma's things used to be — 

So it must be the clothes-press. Grand- 
ma!" 
And he found her with his Three. 

Then she covered her face with her fingers, 
That were wrinkled and white and wee. 

And she guessed where the boy was hid- 
ing, 
With a One and a Two and a Three. 

And they never had stirred from their 
places, 
Right under the maple-tree — 
This old, old, old, old lady. 

And the boy with the lame little knee — 
This dear, dear, dear, old lady. 

And the boy who was half-past three. 
' — H. C. Btmncr, 



SELECTIONS FOR THE CHILDREN. 



415 



THE ROCK-A-BYE BOAT. 



I HERE'S a boat that leaves at half- 
If past six 
From the busy port of Play, 
And it reaches the haven of Slumberland 
Before the close of day. 

It carries the tiniest passengers, 

And it rocks so gently, oh! 
When the wee ones nestle in their berths, 

And the boatman begins to row! 

The whistle sounds so low and sweet 

(Like a mother's lullaby), 
That the travelers smile and close their 
eyes, 

To dream of angels nigh. 

Sometimes the travelers tarry too long. 
In the busy port of Play, 



And the anxious boatman coaxes and calls, 
And grieves at their delay. 

But they come at last to the rocking-boat. 

Which bears them down the stream. 
And drifts them to the Slumberland, 

To rest, and sleep, and dream. 

The name of the boat is Rock-a-bye, 
And it's guided by mother's hand. 

For she is the patient boatman, dear, 
Who takes you to Slumberland, 

Now what is the fare a traveler pays, 
On a Rock-a-bye boat like this? 

Why, the poorest child can afford the price. 
For it's only a good-night kiss. 

— Emeline Goodrozv. 



MOONRISE. 



LL unawares the early stars turn 
pale; 

Across their faces, like a gauze veil, 
A fleecy luster hangs — a hint of light, 
Disclosing slowly on the rim of night. 
A single cloud, a wanderer in the sky, 
Strayed from some tempest scjuadron 

wheeling by. 
Sleeps in the lucent arc with snowy crest, 
And chasms of amber flame within its 

breast. 
Hark! the awaking star! the light winds 

pass 
In bended lanes across the ripened grass ; 
The bats, like blots of dusker shadow, fly, 
With sudden wheel and feeble, snappish 

cry. 
Night beetles labor by on crackling wing; 
The unctuous toad leaps up with velvet 

spring; 
Tlie owl's'half-human cry sounds far away, 
And near, the restless farm-dog's pompous 

bay. 



an 



and 



Now on each tallest tree and bare hill's 

brow 
Ihere clings, and downward creeps, 

ashen glow — 
Then, like a sudden burst of melody. 
Preluding some majestic symphony. 
The full-sphered moon arises, red 

large. 
Through mists that curtain the horizon's 

marge. 
Forever mirroring unclouded skies; 
Of fragrant plains, where summer never 

dies ; 
Rock grottoes, roofed with pearl and em- 
erald ; 
Cool, winding ways, moss-carpeted, green 

walled. 
With interwoven shrubs and clustered 

flowers — 
Fresh, amaranthine, fairer hued than 

hours ; 
Faint crooning groves that breathe a spicy 

balm. 



4t6 



SELECTIONS E O R THE CHILDREN. 



And slumbrous vales, the haunts of tranced 

calm. 
Alas! 'twas but the vision of a seer, 
Who drew from shapes upon cloudy sphere 
The parable of longing and unrest 
Of every time and every human breast; 



And though the lovely myth has winged 

afar 
To sightless realms beyond the palest star, 
The old faith lives, that somewhere there 

must be 
Ideal beauty and serenity. 



DOLLY IN SICKNESS. 



®UT of the window, as I lie. 
Through the half-open blind, 
I see the flock of clouds go by; 
Their shepherds is the wind; 
He calls and calls them all night through 
To go the way he wants them to. 

I hear the nightingales that call 

When nurse is fast asleep. 
And then along the nursery wall 

The shadow-people creep. 
They come out of the night-light's shade; 
I wish there were no night-light's made. 



I see the squares of sunshine lie 

Upon the papered wall; 
I wish those papery flowers would die, 

And let their petals fall; 

A LAUGH IN CHURCH. 



I am so tired of counting up 

Each leaf .and stem and" bell and cup. 

I am so tired of everything! 

The pillow and the sheet, 
The nasty milky things they bring 

And tell me I must eat; 
And all the others romp and play, 
And have jam pudding- every day! 

Oh, when I'm well I will be good; 

I'll learn the things I hate; 
I'll never grumble at my food. 

Or ask to sit up late. 
Oh, if you're only well and out. 
You've nothing to complain about! 



SHE sat on the sliding cushion, 
The dear wee woman- of four; 
Her feet, in their shiny slippers, 

Hung" dangling over the floor. 
She meant to be good; she had promised; 

And so, with her big brown eyes. 
She stared at the meeting-house windows 
And counted the crawling flies. 

She looked far up at the preacher; 

But she thought of the honey-bees 
Droning away in the blossoms 

That whitened the cherry trees. 
She thought of the broken basket. 

Where, curled in a dusty heap, 
Three sleek, round puppies, with fringy 
ears. 

Lay snuggled and fast asleep. 



Such soft, warm bodies to cuddle. 

Such queer little hearts to beat, 
Such swift round tongues to kiss you, 

Such sprawling, cushiony feet! 
She could feel in her clasping fingers 

The touch of the satiny skin, 
And a cold, wet nose exploring 

The dimples under her chin. 

Then a sudden ripple of laughter 

Ran over the parted lips. 
So quick that she could not catch it 

With her rosy finger tips. 
The people whispered: "Bless the child!' 

As each one waked from a nap ; 
But the dear wee woman hid her face 

For shame in her mother's lap. 



SELECTIONS FOR THE CHILDREN. 



417 



IN THE FIRELIGHT. 



IHE fire upon the hearth is low, 
And there is stillness everywhere, 
And, like winged spirits, here and there 
The firelight shadows fluttering go; 
And as the shadows round me creep, 
A childish treble breaks the gloom, 
And softly from a further room 
Comes, "Now I lay me' down to sleep.' 

And, somehow, with that little prayer, 
And that sweet treble in my ears. 
My thoughts go back to distant years. 

And linger with a dear one there; 



And as I hear my child's Amen, 

My mother's faith comes back to me- 
Crouched at her I side I seem to be, 

And mother hoids my hands again. 

Oh, for an hour in that dear place! 

Oh, for the peace of that dear time! 

Oh, for that childish trust sublime! 
Oh, for a glimpse of mother's face! 
Yet, as the shadows round me creep, 

I do not seem to be alone — 

Sweet magic of that treble tone, 
And, "Now I lay me down to sleep." 

— Eus[ciic Field. 



THE DOLL'S WEDDING. 



f?M 'vited to the wedding, 
And have to make a dress; 
I want a lot of 'lusion, 

A hundred yards, I guess — 
I think I'll make it "princess," 

I couldn't wear it plain; 
It's very fashionable 
To have a plaited train. 



It's Rosa Burdock's wedding, 

To-morrow, just at three, 
lu Mamie Turnbull's garden 

Under the apple-tree; 
The bridegroom's Colonel Bracebridge, 

He wears a sword and plume. 
To show that he's a soldier — 

It's stylish, I presume. 



We made some sugar-water, 
And Mamie's got a cake* 

I never saw such good ones 
As her mamma can make. 



She puts on plenty froisting 

And lots of sugar plums — 
I guess we'll have the 'freshments 

Before the min'ster comes. 

We've got to pick some dandelines 

To make a chain and ring — 
Louise will play the jew's-harp. 

And Mamie and I will sing; 
We'll have to say the 'sponses, 

They couldn't if they tried — 
But Rosa is so el'gent 

She'll make a lovely bride. 

We'll have to stand the Colonel 

Against a piece of board. 
Or maybe he can stand up 

By leaning on his sword. 
Come now, this is to-morrow — 

Let's get our hats and shawls. 
Bring June and Zephyrine, 

And all the other dolls. 

' — Kate Allyn, 




ABRAHAM LINCOLN. — Wonderful, indeed, was the career of Abraham Lincohi, 
eighteenth President of the United States. His parents were very poor and he was born 
in a Kentucky log cabin. In 1818, when nine years old, his father and mother moved to 
Southern Indiana, and in 1830 emigrated to Illinois. Lincoln had no adyantages, his whole 
life being a hard and toilsome struggle against adversity, and he fell at the hands of an 
assassin, but not until he had seen the result of his labors in behalf of his country. His 
oratory was simplicity itself, but grand and imposing. 



AMERICAN ORATIONS. 



^ ^ ^ 

Utterances of the Most Eloquent Orators of the United States and the 
Occasions Which Called Them Forth, 

. »r :f ^ 



^^p^HERE never lived a more eloquent 
f p man than Abraham Lincoln, although 
most of his utterances contain so much 
common sense that they appear homely 
beside the flowery metaphors of more fin- 
ished orators. He did not make a good 
impression upon his audiences at first, his 
natural awkwardness being emphasized by 
his height and the bad fit of his clothes, 
but when he began to talk his hsteners were 
so enthralled they never took their eyes 
from his face as long as he was speaking. 

In 1858 he said, during his speech to the 
Republican State Convention at Spring- 
field, 111.: 

"I believe this Government cannot en- 
dure permanently hah slave and half free. 
I do not expect the Union to be dissolved; 
I do not expect the house to fall; but I 
do expect that it will cease to be divided. 
It win become all one thing, or all the 
other. Either the opponents of slavery will 
arrest the further spread of it, and place it 
where the public mind shall rest in the 
belief that it is in the course of ultimate 
extinction; or its advocates will push it 
forward till it shall become alike lawful in 
all the States, old as well as new. North as 
weU as South. Have we no tendency to 
the latter condition? Let anyone who 
doubts carefully contemplate that now 
almost complete le^al combination piece 

41 



of machinery, so to speak, compounded of 
the Nebraska doctrine and the Dred Scott 
decision. Let him consider not only what 
work the machinery is adapted to do, and 
how well adapted, but also let him study 
the history of its construction, and trace, 
if he can, or rather fail, if he can, to trace 
the evidences of design and concert of 
action among its chief architects from the 
beginning." 

During the course of his second inaugu- 
ral address, delivered on March 4th, 1865, 
but a short time before his assassination. 
President Lincoln said: 

"Neith"er party (North or South) ex- 
pected for the war the magnitude or the 
duration which it has already attained. 
Neither anticipated that the cause of the 
conflict might cease when, or even before, 
the conflict itself should cease. Each 
looked for an easier triumph, and a result 
less fundamental and astounding. Both 
read the same Bible and pray to the same 
God, and each invokes His aid against the 
other. It may seem strange that any men 
should dare to ask a just God's assistance 
in wringing their bread from the sweat of 
other men's faces; but let us judge not, 
that we be not judged. The prayer of both 
could not be answered. That of neither has 
been answered fully. The Almighty has 
His own purposes. 'Woe unto the world 
9 




DANIEL WEBSTER was born at Salisbury (now Franklin), New Hampshire, in 
1782, and died at Marshfield, Massachusetts, in 1852. A graduate of Dartmouth College, 
he was the most remarkable student who ever attended that institution, and it seemed as 
though he had been sent into the world for a great purpose. His genius as an orator showed 
itself at an early age ; his memory was phenomenal, he possessed rare poetic gifts that defied 
analysis, was industrious to a wonderful degree, and for power of lucid and convincing 
statement he was unrivaled. His services in the United States Senate and as Secretary of 
State in the Cabinets of Presidents Harrison and Tyler entitle him to a prominent place 
among the statesmen of the Nineteenth Century, 



AMERICAN ORATIONS. 



421 



because of offenses, for it must needs be 
that offenses come, but woe to that man 
by whom the offense cometh." If we shall 
suppose that American slavery is one of 
those offenses which, in the providence of 
God must needs come, but which having 
continued through His appointed time, He 
now wills to remove, and that He gives to 
both North and South this terrible war as 
the woe due to those by whom the offense 
came — shall w^e discern there any departure 
from those divine attributes which the be- 
lievers in a living God always ascribe to 
Him? Fondly do we hope, fervently do we 
pray, that this mighty scourge of war may 
speedily pass away. Yet if God wills that 
it continue until all the wealth piled by the 



bondsmen's two hundred and fifty years of 
anrequited toil shall be sunk, and until 
every drop of blood drawn with the lash 
shall be paid by another drawn with the 
sword; as was said three thousand years 
ago, so still it must be said, that 'the judg- 
ments of the Lord are true and righteous 
altogether.' 

"With malice toward none, with charity 
for all, with firmness in the right as God 
gives us to see the right, let us finish the 
work we are in, to bind up the nation's 
wounds, to care for him who shall have 
borne the battle, and for his widow and his 
orphans, to do all which may achieve and 
cherish a just and a lasting peace among 
ourselves and with all nations." 



WEBSTER IN REPLY TO HAYNE. 



g^^ANIEL WEBSTER was one of the 
acknowledged spokesmen for human- 
ity; he belonged to no era or century, but 
stood for the ages. He would have been a 
leader among the ancients as he was among 
the moderns, and his most fitting monu- 
Aients are his orations, all of which bore 
the impress of his great love of country 
and liberty. 

His reply to Senator Hayne, in the 
United States Senate, in 1830, is regarded 
as the noblest effort of his life. We repro- 
duce only the more striking parts: 

'T shall enter upon no encomium of 
Massachusetts; she needs none. There 
she is. Behold her, and judge for your- 
selves. There is her history; the world 
knows it by heart. The past, at least, is 
secure. There is Boston, and Concord, and 
Lexington, and Bunker Hill; and there 
they will remain forever. The bones of her 
sons, falling in the great struggle for Inde- 
pendence, now lie mingled with the soil of 
every State from New England to Georgia, 
and there they will lie forever. And. sir. 



where American Liberty raised its first 
voice, and where its youth was nurtured 
and sustained, there it still lives, in the 
strength of its manhood, and full of its 
original spirit. If discord and disunion 
shall wound it, if party strife and blind 
ambition shall hawk and tear it, if folly and 
madness, if uneasiness under salutary and 
necessary restraint shall succeed in sepa- 
rating it from that Union, by which alone 
its existence is made sure, it will stand, in 
the end, by the side of that cradle in which 
its infancy was rocked; it will stretch forth 
its arm with whatever of vigor it may still 
retain, over the friends who gather round 
it; and it will fall at last, if fall it must, 
amidst the profoundest rrionuments of its 
own glory, and on the very spot of its 
oiigin. 

"I understand the honorable gentleman 
from South Carolina to maintain that it is 
a right of the State Legislature to inter- 
fere whenever, in their judgment, this 
Government transcends its constitutional 
limits, and to arrest the operation of its 



422 



AMERICAN ORATIONS. 



laws. * * * But the State Legisla- 
tures, * * * however sovereign, are 
not sovereign over the people. So far as 
the people have given power to the 
General Government, so far the grant is 
unquestionably good, and the Government 
holds of the people, and not of the State 
Governments. We are all agents of the 
same supreme power, the people. The 
General Government and the State Gov- 
ernments derive their authority from the 
same source. Neither can, in relation to 
the other, be called primary, though one is 
definite and restricted, and the other gen- 
eral and residuary. The National Govern- 
ment possesses those powers which it can 
be shown the people have conferred on it, 
and no more. All the rest belongs to the 
State Governments, or to the people them- 
selves. So far as the people have restrained 
State sovereignty by the expression of their 
will, in the Constitution of the United 
States, so far, it must be admitted, State 
sovereignty is effectually controlled. * 
* * , To make war, for instance, is an 
exercise of sovereignty; but the Constitu- 
tion declares that no State shall make war. 
To coin money is another exercise of sov- 
ereign power; but no State is at liberty to 
coin money. Again, the Constitution says 
that no sovereign State shall be so sover- 
eign as to make a treaty. * * * 

''This Government is the independent 
offspring of the popular will. It is not the 
creature of State Legislatures; nay, more, 
if the whole truth must be told, the people 
brought it into existence, established it, 
and have hitherto supported it, for the very 
purpose, amongst others, of imposing cer- 
tain salutary restraints on State sovereign- 
ties. The States cannot now make war; 
they cannot contract alliances ; they cannot 
make, each for itself, separate regulations 
of commerce; they cannot lay imposts; 
thev cannot coin money. If this Constitu- 



tion, sir, be the creature of State Legis- 
latures, it must be admitted that it has 
obtained a strange control over the voli- 
tions of its creators. * * * 

'T profess, sir, in my career hitherto, to 
have kept steadily in view the prosperity 
and honor of the whole country, and the 
preservation of our Federal Union. It is 
to that Union we owe our safety at home, 
and our consideration and dignity abroad. 
It is to that Union that we are chiefly in- 
debted for whatever makes us most proud 
of our country. That Union we reached 
only by the discipline of our virtues in the 
severe school of adversity. It had its ori- 
gin in the necessities of disordered finance, 
prostrate commerce, and ruined credit. 
Under its benign influences, these great 
interests immediately awoke, as from the 
dead, and sprang forth with newness of 
life. Every year of its duration has teemed 
with fresh proofs of its utility and its bless- 
ings; and although our territory has 
stretched out wider and wider, and our pop- 
ulation spread farther and farther, they 
have not outrun its protection or its bene- 
fits. It has been to us all a copious fountain 
of national, social, and personal happiness. 

'T have not allowed myself, sir, to look 
beyond the Union, to see what might lie 
hidden in the dark recess behind. I have 
not coolly weighed the chances of preserv- 
ing liberty when the bonds that unite us 
together shall be broken asunder. I have 
not accustomed myself to hang over the 
precipice of disunion, to see whether, with 
my short sight, I can fathom the depth of 
the abyss below; nor could I regard him as 
a safe counselor in the affairs of this Gov- 
ernment whose thoughts should be mainly 
bent on considering, not how the Union 
may be best preserved, but how tolerable 
might be the condition of the people when 
it should be broken up and destroyed. 
While the Union lasts we have high, excit- 




JAMES GILLESPIE BLAINE, one of the most brilliant and versatile of American 
statesmen, was a native of Pennsylvania, taking up his residence in the Pine Tree State, 
represented it in the Senate and House of the National Congress, was Speaker of the House, 
Secretary of State in the Cabinets of two Presidents, was nominated and beaten for the 
Presidency. Mr. Blaine was born in 1830, and exhibited remarkable traits when very young. 
It was said he could repeat all of Plutarch's Lives when nine years old. 



4M 



AMERICAN ORATIONS. 



ing, gratifying prospects spread out before 
us, for us and our children. Beyond that I 
s'eek not to penetrate the veiL God grant 
that in my day at least that curtain may not 
rise! God grant that on my vision never 
may be opened what lies behind ! When my 
eyes shall be turned to behold for the last 
time the sun in the heavens, may I not see 
him shining on the broken and dishonored 
fragments of a once glorious Union; on 
States dissevered, discordant, beUigerent; 
on a land rent with civil feuds, or drenched, 
it may be, in fraternal blood! Let their last 
feeble and lingering glance rather behold 
the gorgeous ensign of the Republic, now 
known and honored throughout the earth, 



still full high advanced, its arms and tro- 
phies streaming in their origmal lustre, not 
a stripe erased or polluted, not a single star 
obscured, bearing for its motto no such 
miserable interrogatory as 'What is all this 
worth?' nor those other words of delusion 
and folly, 'Liberty first and Union after- 
ward'; but everywhere, spread all over in 
characters of living light, blazing on all 
its ample folds, as they float over the sea 
and over the land, and in every wind under 
the whole heavens, that other sentiment, 
dear to every true American heart, — Lib- 
erty and Union, now and forever, one and 
inseparable!" 



BLAINE'S TRIBUTE TO GARFIELD. 



fAMES G. BLAINE, Secretary of 
State in the Cabinet of President 
James A. Garfield, delivered the memorial 
address at the exercises held in the Hall of 
the House of Representatives, February 
27th, 1882, some months after the death of 
the victim of the assassin's bullet. The as- 
semblage was a distinguished one. Presi- 
dent Arthur, his Cabinet, members of 
Congress, Justices of the Supreme Court, 
the Diplomatic Corps, the highest officers 
of the Army and Navy, and many of the 
most prominent men of the country being 
present. Mr. Blaine was at his best, and 
spoke with remarkable feeling and power. 
"For the second time in this gen- 
eration the great departments of the 
Government of the United States are 
assembled in the Hall of Representatives to 
do honor to the memory of a murdered 
President. Lincoln fell at the close of a 
mighty struggle in which the passions of 
men had been deeply stirred. The tragical 
termination of his great life added but an- 
other to the lensfthened succession of hor- 



rors which had marked so many lintels witb 
the blood of the first-born. Garfield was 
slain in a day of peace, when brother had 
been reconciled to brother, and when anger 
and hate had been banished from the land. 
'Whoever shall hereafter draw the portrait 
of murder, if he will show it as it has been 
exhibited where such example was last to 
have been looked for, let him not give it the 
grim visage of Moloch, the brow knitted 
by revenge, the face black with settled hate. 
Let him draw, rather, a decorous, smooth- 
faced, bloodless demon; not so much an 
example of human nature in its depravity 
and in its paroxysm of crime as an in- 
fernal being, a fiend in the ordinary display 
and development of his character." 

After sketching the dead President's 
struggles with poverty, his young man- 
hood, his career in the Union army and his 
election to Congress, Mr. Blaine resumed: 

"As a parliamentary orator, as a debater 
on an issue squarely joined, where the po- 
sition had been chosen and the ground laid 
out, Garfield must be assigned a very high 




JAMES ABRAM GARFIELD was the twentieth President of the United States and 
the second to fall under the bullet of the assassin. He was born at Orange, Cuyahoga 
County, Ohio, November 19, 1831, and died at Elberon, New Jersey, September 19, 1881. 
Born of poor parents, driver of a canalboat in his youth, he secured an education by his 
own unaided efforts, was a college president at 26, Major-General of Volunteers in the 
Civil War at 32, Congressman at the same age, and continued as such seventeen years, when 
he was chosen United States Senator, but before he took his seat he was nominated and 
elected President. - 



426 



AMERICAN ORATIONS. 



rank. More, perhaps, than any man with 
whom he was associated in pubhc hfe, he 
gave careful and systematic study of public 
questions, and he came to every discussion 
in which he took part with elaborate and 
complete preparation. He was a steady and 
indefatigable worker. Those who imagine 
that talent or genius can supply the place 
or achieve the results of labor will find no 
encouragement in Garfield's life. In pre- 
hminary work he was apt, rapid, and skill- 
ful. He possessed in a high degree the 
power of readily absorbing ideas and facts, 
and, like Dr. Johnson, had the art of getting 
from a book all that was of value in it by 
a reading apparently so quick and cursory 
that it seemed like a mere glance at the 
table of contents. He was a pre-eminently 
fair and candid man in debate, took no petty 
advantage, stooped to no unworthy meth- 
ods, avoided personal allusions, rarely ap- 
pealed to prejudice, did not seek to inflame 
passion. * * * 

"Great in life, he was surpassingly great 
in death. For no cause, in the very frenzy 
of wantonness and wickedness, by the red 
hand of murder, he was thrust from the full 
tide of this world's interest, from its hopes, 
its aspirations, its victories, into the visible 
presence of death — and he did not quail. 
Not alone for one short moment in which, 
stunned and dazed, he could give up hfe, 
hardly aware of its relinquishment, but 
through days of deadly languor, through 
weeks of agony, that was not less agony 
because silently borne, with clear sight and 
calm courage, he looked into his open 
grave. What blight and ruin met his an- 
guished eyes, whose lips may tell — what 
brilliant, broken plans, what bailed, high 
ambitions, what sundering of strong, warm, 
manhood's friendships, what bitter rending 
of sweet household ties! Behind him a 
proud, expectant nation, a great host of 
sustaining friends, a cherished and happy 



mother, wearing the full, rich honors of her 
early toil and tears; the wife of his youth, 
whose whole Hfe lay in his; the little boys 
not yet emerged from childhood's day of 
frolic; the fair young daughter; the sturdy 
sons just springing into closest compan- 
ionship, claiming every day and every day 
rewarding a father's love and care; and in 
his heart the eager, rejoicing power to meet 
ail demand. Before him, desolation and 
great darkness! And his soul was not 
shaken. His countrymen were thrilled with 
instant, profound, and universal sympathy. 
Masterful in his mortal weakness, he be- 
came the center of a nation's love, en- 
shrined in the prayers of a world. But all 
the love and all the sympathy could not 
share with him his sufifering. He trod.the 
winepress alone. With unfaltering front 
he faced death. With unfailing tenderness 
he took leave of life. Above the demoniac 
hiss of the assassin's bullet he heard the 
voice of God. With simple resignation ihe 
bowed to the divine decree. 

"As the end drew near his early craving 
for the sea returned. The stately mansion 
of power had been to him the wearisome 
hospital of pain, and he begged to be taken 
from its prison walls, from its oppressive, 
stifling air, from its homelessness and its 
helplessness. Gently, silently, the love of 
a great people bore the pale sufferer to the 
longed-for healing of the sea, to live or to 
die, as God should will, within sight of its 
heaving billows, within sound of its mani- 
fold voices. With wan, fevered face ten- 
derly lifted to the cooling breeze, he looked 
out wistfully upon the ocean's changing 
wonders; on its far sails, whitening in the 
morning light; on its restless waves, rolling 
shoreward to break and die beneath the 
noonday sun; on the red clouds of evening, 
arching low to the horizon; on the serene 
and shining pathway of the stars. Let us 
think that his dying eyes read a mystic 



AMERICAN ORATIONS. 



427 



meaning which only the rapt and parting 
soul may know. Let us beneve that in the 
silence of the recedinsf world he heard the 



great waves breaking on a farther shore, 
and^felt already upon his wasted brow the 
breath of the eternal morning-." 



THEODORE PARKER ON GREATNESS. 



¥T WAS said that Theodore Parker, the 
eminent divine, "knew everything," 
this being the declaration of a friend who 
wished to convey his idea of Parker's thirst 
for knowledge. He was an omnivorous 
reader and his memory always retained 
what was once recorded upon its tablets. 
He was a thoroughly earnest manin all un- 
dertakings, and .a speaker of forcefulness 
and resource, as these extracts from an 
address on the life and character of Daniel 
Webster will show: 

"In general, greatness is eminence of 
ability; so there are as many different forms 
thereof as there are qualities wherein a man 
may be eminent. These various forms of 
greatness should be distinctly marked, that, 
when we say a man is great, we may know 
exactly what we mean. 

"In the rudest ages, when the body is 
man's only tool for work or war, eminent 
strength of body is the thing most coveted. 
Then, and so long as human affairs are con- 
trolled by brute force, the giant is thought 
to be the great man — is held in honor for 
his eminent brute strength. 

"When men have a little outgrown that 
period of force, cunning is the quality most 
prized. The nimble brain outwits the 
heavy arm, and brings the circumvented 
giant to the ground. He who can over- 
reach his antagonist, plotting more subtly, 
winning with more deceitful skill ; who can 
turn and double on his unseen track, 'can 
smile and smile, and be a villain' — he is the 
great man. 

"Brute force is merely animal; cunning 
is the animalism of the intellect — the 
mind's least intellectual element. 



"As men go on in their development, 
finding qualities more valuable than the 
strength of the lion or the subtlety of the 
fox, they come to value higher intellectual 
faculties — great understanding, great imag- 
ination, great reason. Power to think is 
then the faculty men value most; ability to 
devise means for attaining ends desired; 
the power to originate ideas, to express 
them in speech, to organize them into insti- 
tutions; to organize things into a machine, 
men into an army or state, or a gang of 
operatives; to administer these various or- 
ganizations. He who is eminent in this 
ability is thought the great man. 

"But there are qualities nobler than the 
mere intellect^the moral, the affectional, 
the religious faculties — the power of jus- 
tice, of love, of holiness, of trust in God, 
and of obedience to his law — the eternal 
right. These are the highest qualities of 
man; whoso is most eminent therein is the 
greatest of great men. He is as much 
above the merely intellectual great men as 
they above the men of mere cunning or 
force. 

"Thus, then, we have four dilTerent kinds 
of greatness. Let me name them — bodily 
greatness, crafty greatness, intellectual 
greatness, religious greatness. Men in dif- 
ferent degrees of development will value 
the dififerent kinds of greatness. Belial can- 
not yet honor Christ. How can the little 
girl appreciate Aristotle and Kant? The 
child thinks as a child. You must have 
manhood in you to honor it in others, even 
to see it. 

"Yet how we love to honor men eminent 
in such modes of greatness as we can un- 







HENRY WARD BEECHER was born in Litchfield, Connecticut, in 1813, received a 
good New England education, went west to Ohio to study theology and began the preach- 
ing of the gospel at Lawrenceburg, Indiana, in 1836. He was afterwards called to a church 
in Indianapolis. His eloquence had attracted attention and he was solicited to go to Brook- 
lyn to Plymouth Church, which invitation he accepted, and he remained there until his death 
in 1887 after a pastorate of full forty years. His fertility of intellect was amazing and his 
preaching was entirely free from affectations. 



AMERICAN ORATIONS. 



429 



derstand! Indeed, we must do so. Soon as 
we really see .a real great man, his magnet- 
ism draws us, will we or no. '•' * * If 
you are confronted by a man of vast ge- 
nius, of colossal history and achievements, 
immense personal power of wisdom, jus- 
tice, philanthropy, religion, of mighty 
power of will and mighty act; if you feel 
him as you feel the mountain and the sea, 
what grander emotions spring up! It is 
like making the acquaintance of one of the 
elementary forces of the earth — like asso- 
ciating with gravitation itself! The stififest 
neck bends over; down go the democratic 
knees ; human nature is loyal then ! 

"We are always looking for a great man 
to solve the difficulty too hard for us, to 
break the rock which lies in our way, — to 
represent the possibility of human nature 
as an ideal, and then to realize that ideal in 
his life. Little boys in the country, work- 
ing against time, with stints to do, long for 
the passing-by of some tall brother, who 
in a few minutes shall achieve what the 
smaller boy took hours to do. And we are 



all of us but little boys, looking for some 
great brother to come and help us end our 
tasks. 

'Tt takes greatness to see greatness, and 
know it at the first; I mean to see greatness 
of the highest kind. Bulk, anybody can see; 
bulk of body or mind. The loftiest form 
of greatness is never popular in its time. 
Men cannot understand or receive it. 
Guinea negroes would think a juggler a 
greater man than P'ranklin. What would 
be thought of Martin Luther at Rome, of 
Washington at St. Petersburg, of Fenelon 
among the Sacs and Foxes? Herod and 
Pilate were popular in their day, — men of 
property and standing. They got nomina- 
tions and honor enough. Jesus of Nazareth 
got no nomination, got a cross between two 
thieves, was crowned with thorns, and, 
when he died, eleven Galileans gathered to- 
gether to lament their Lord. Any man can 
measure a walking-stick, — so many hands 
long, and so many nails beside ; but it takes 
a mountain intellect to measure the Andes 
and Altai." 



MAN SUPERIOR TO ALL CREATED THINGS. 




^(2)1 ENRY WARD BEECHER was a 
_^j man with a distinct personality — 
one which made itself felt wherever he went 
and in whatever he said. As a pulpit orator 
he was versatile and original, and no au- 
dience could resist the fascination of his 
words. One of the best examples of his 
reasoning was his address upon self-gov- 
ernment : 

"Men are not each worth the same thing 
to society. All men cannot think with a 
like value, nor work with a like product. 
And if you measure man as a producing 
creature — that is, in his secular relations — 
men are not alike valuable. But when you 
measure men on their spiritual side, and m 
their afifectional relations to God and the 



eternal world, the lowest man is so immeas- 
urable in value that you cannot make any 
practical difference between one man and 
another. Although, doubtless, some are 
vastly above, the lowest and least goes be- 
yond your powers of conceiving, and your 
power of measuring. This is the root idea, 
which, if not recognized, is yet operative. 
It is the fundamental principle of our Amer- 
ican scheme, that is, Man is above nature. 
Man, by virtue of his original endowment 
and affiliation to the Eternal Father, is su- 
perior to every other created thing. There 
is nothing to be compared with man. All 
governments are from him and for him, and 
not over him and upon him. All institutions 
are not his masters, but his servants. All 



430 



AMERICAN ORATIONS. 



days, all ordinances, all usages, come to 
minister to the chief and the king, — God's 
son, man, of whom God only is master. 
Therefore, he is to me thoroughly enlarged, 
thoroughly empowered by development, 
and then thoroughly trusted. This is the 
American idea, — for we stand in contrast 
with the world in holding and teaching it; 
that men, having been once thoroughly 
educated, are to be absolutely trusted. 

"The education of the common people 
follows, then, as a necessity. They are to 
be fitted to govern. Since all things are 
from them and for them, they must be edu- 
cated to their function, to their destiny. No 
pains are spared, we know, in Europe, to 
educate princes and nobles who are to gov- 
ern. No expense is counted too great, in 
Europe, to prepare the governing classes 
for their function. America has her govern- 
ing class, too; and that governing class is 
the whole people. It is a slower work, be- 
cause it is so much larger. It is never car- 
ried so high, because there is so much 
more of it. It is easy to lift up a crowned 
class. It is not easy to lift up society from 
the very foundation. That is the work of 
centuries. And, therefore, though we have 
not an education so deep nor so high as it 
is in some other places, we have it broader 



than anywhere else in the world; and we 
have learned that for ordinary affairs, intel- 
ligence among the common people is better 
than treasures of knowledge among par- 
ticular classes of the people. School books 
• do more for the country than encyclo- 
paedias. 

"And so there comes up the American 
conception of a common people as an order 
of nobility, or as standing in the same place 
to us that orders of nobility stand to other 
peoples. Not that, after our educated men 
and men of genius .are counted out, we call 
all that remain the common people. The 
whole community, top and bottom and in- 
termediate, the strong and the weak, the 
rich and the poor, the leaders and the fol- 
lowers, constitute with us the common- 
wealth; in which laws spring from the peo- 
ple, administration conforms to their wishes 
and they are made the final judges of every 
interest of the State. 

'Tn America, there is not one single ele- 
ment of civilization that is not made to de- 
pend, in the end, upon public opinion. Art, 
law, administration, policy, reformation of 
morals, religious teaching, all derive, in our 
form of society, the most potent influence 
from the common people." 



EDWARD EVERETT ON GENERAL EDUCATION. 



DWARD EVERETT was a warm 
advocate of the education of the peo- 
ple, holding that a nation could have no 
more secure foundation than that of uni- 
versal knowledge — that a country whose 
inhabitants were educated would surely 
pass all others in the struggle for suprem- 
acy: 

'Tt is usual to compare the culture of the 
mind to the culture of the earth. If the hus- 
bandman relax his labors, and his field be 
left untilled, this year or the next, although 



a crop or two be lost, the evil may be reme- 
died. The land, with its productive quali- 
ties, remains. If not plowed and planted 
this year, it may be the year after. But 
if the mind be wholly neglected during the 
period most proper for its cultivation, if it 
be suffered to remain dark and uninformed, 
its vital power perishes; for all the purposes 
of an intellectual nature it is lost. It is as 
if an earthquake had swallowed up the un- 
cultivated fallows, or as if a swollen river 
had washed away, not merely the standing 



AMERICAN ORATIONS. 



431 



crop, but the bank on which it was growing. 
When the time for education has gone by 
the man must, in ordinary cases, be 
launched upon the world a benighted being, 
scarcely elevated above the beasts that per- 
ish; and all that he could have been and 
done for society and for himself is wholly 
lost. 

"Although this utter sacrifice of the in- 
tellectual nature is rarely made in this part 
of the country, I fear there exists, even 
here, a woeful waste of mental power, 
through neglect of education. Taking our 
population as a whole, I fear that there is 
not nearly time enough passed at school; 
that many of those employed in the busi- 
ness of instruction are incompetent to the 
work; and that our best teachers are not 
sufihciently furnished with literary appar- 
atus, particularly with school libraries. If 
these defects could be supplied, I believe a 
few years would witness a wonderful effect 
upon the community; that an impulse, not 
easily conceived beforehand,; . would be 
given to individual and social character. 



'Tf the all-important duty of training the 
young is intrusted to the cheapest hand that 
can be hired to do the work, to one who is 
barely able to pass a nominal examination, 
by a committee sometimes more ignorant 
than himself, in the modicum of learning 
prescribed by law, * * * it is plain to 
see that they are deprived of the best part 
of their birthright. * * * 

'T cannot, will not, believe that social 
man can rise no higher than this; that rea- 
son and experience, self-interest and hu- 
manity, the light of nature, the progress 
of knowledge/and the word of God, will 
forever prove too feeble for this monstrous 
perversion of human energy. I must be- 
lieve that the day will yet dawn when the 
greatest efiforts of individual and social man 
will be turned to the promotion of the wel- 
fare of his brother man. If this hope is to 
be realized, it must be by the joint action of 
enlightened reason, elevated morals, and 
pure religion, brought home, by a liberal 
and efficient system of education and the 
aid of Heaven, to every fireside and every 
heart." 



WHAT A JUDGE SHOULD BE. 



F ALL the orators the American bar 
has produced, Rufus Choate will be 
ranked as among the most powerful in ar- 
gument and eloquent in expression. In 
what is known as his "convention speech," 
delivered in 1853, he gave definite form to 
his idea of what an upright judge should 
be: 

* * ^- "pjg should be profoundly 
learned in all the learning of the law, and 
he must know how to use that learning. 
* * * He is to know not merely the law 
which you make, and the Legislature 
makes, not constitutional and statute law 
alane, but that other ampler, that boundless 
jurisprudence, the common law, which the 



successive generations of the State have 
silently built up; that old code of freedom 
which we brought with us in The May- 
flower and Arabella, but which, in the pro- 
gress of centuries, we have ameliorated and 
enriched, and adapted wisely to the neces- 
sities of a busy, prosperous, and wealthy 
community — that he must know. 

* * >K ''He must be a man not merely 
upright; not merely honest and well-inten- 
tioned — this of course — but a man who will 
not respect persons in judgment. * * * 
He shall do everything for justice, nothing 
for himself; nothing for his friend, nothing 
for his patrons, nothing for his sovereign. 

'Tf, on one side, is the executive power 




CHAUNCEY M. DEPEW- is, with hardly an exception, recognized as the happiest 
after-dinner and extemporaneous orator in the country. He was born on a farm near 
Poughkeepsie, New York, in 1833, his parents being poor, and after working hard, saved 
money to go through Yale; then he studied law, was admitted to the bar, took an interest 
in politics, was Secretary of State for New York, was chosen President of the New York 
Central and Plarlem River Railroad, and after serving in that position for many years ac- 
cepted an election by the Republicans of the General Assembly of New York to the United 
States Senate. 



AMERICAN ORATIONS. 



433 



and the Legislature and the people — the 
sources of his honors, the givers of his 
daily bread — and on the other an individual, 
nameless and odious, his eye is to see 
neither great nor small, attending only to 
the trepidations of the balance. If a law 
is passed by a unanimous Legislature, 
clamored for by the general voice of the 
public, and a cause is before him on it, in 
which the whole community is on one side 
and an individual nameless or odious on 
the other, and he believes it to be against 
the Constitution, he must so declare it, or 
there is no judge. If Athens comes there 
to demand that the cup of hemlock be put 
to the lips of the wisest of men, and he 
believes that he has not corrupted the 
youth, nor omitted to worship the gods of 
the city, nor introduced new divinities of 
his own, he must deliver him, although the 
thunder light on the unterrified brow. 
"And, finally, he must possess the perfect 



confidence of the community, that he bear 
not the sword in vain. To be honest, to be 
no respecter of persons, is not yet enough. 
He must be believed such. I should be glad 
so far to indulge an old-fashioned and cher-i 
ished professional sentiment as to say that 
I would have something venerable and il- 
lustrious attach to his character and func- 
tion, in the judgment and feelings of the 
commonwealth. * * "•' A man toward 
whom the love and trust and afifectionatc 
admiration of the people should flow; not 
a man perching for a winter and summer 
in our courthouses and then gone forever; 
but one tO' whose benevolent face, and 
bland and dignified manners, and firm ad- 
ministration of the whole learning of the 
law, we become accustomed; whom our 
eyes anxiously, not in vain, explore when 
we enter the temple of justice; toward 
whom our attachment and trust grow ever 
with the growth of his own reputation." 



SENATOR DEPEW AND RAILROAD MEN. 



NITED STATES SENATOR 
Chauncey M. Depew, for many years 
president of the New York Central Rail- 
road Company, was deeply interested in the 
welfare of the employes of the road and 
active in the organization of library and 
other associations among them, the intent 
of which was to surround the men with the 
best influences possible. In a speech to the 
men in New York in 1887 he said: 

"The greatest, the most satisfactory, 
feature of railroad development is the men 
engaged in operating the roads. With those 
who are actually in the service, and those 
who contribute by supplies, one-tenth of 
the working force of the United States is 
in the railroad service; and that tenth in- 
cludes the most energetic men and most in- 
telligent among the workers of this magni- 



ficent country. There are ten million work- 
ingmen in this country, and six hundred 
thousand are directly employed in the rail- 
way service. They are a republic in them- 
selves, and yet they are the most loyal, the 
most law-abiding, and most useful and pa- 
triotic of citizens. They do not seek ag- 
grandizement themselves ; they do not seek 
by secrecy and force to accomplish selfish 
purposes or to do injury to anybody; they 
simply try to live in a brotherly way among 
those who are engaged in other pursuits, 
and to labor for the improvement of the 
country and the elevation of themselves and 
of their brethren. '''' * * 

"The railroad is a republic which refutes 
the theories that come from long-haired 
men who never work themselves. The worst 
service that is done to the workingmen of 



434 



AMERICAN ORATIONS. 



this country is the Hp service of men who 
never work and could not be made to work. 

* :1; * 

"There is no democracy like the railway 
system of this land. Men are not taken out 
of rich men's parlors and placed in posi- 
tions of responsibility. Men are not taken 
because they are sons of such, and put into 
paying places in the railway system; but the 
superintendents all over the country — the 
men who officer and man the passenger, the 
freight, the motive power and accounting 
departments — all of them come up from 
the bottom. And are you going to stop 
this thing? No; there are no men being- 
born, or to be born, who are to be by in- 
heritance the superintendents, treasurers, 
comptrollers, auditors, the freight and 



ticket agents, the conductors, the yardmas- 
ters — who are to be the master mechanics, 
the foremen of the shops of the future. 
They are not born. They have got to be 
made, and come from the bottom up. And 
in every one of these departments to-day, 
in every railroad in the United States, in 
the humblest positions, earning the smallest 
salaries, are men who within the next twen- 
ty-five years are to fill these places by pro- 
motion. Don't tell me there is no chance to 
rise in this country. There are vacancies 
to occur in the next thirty years in thou- 
sands of positions of power, and every one 
of them wall be filled by men who prove, 
by coming up grade by grade, that they 
have got brains and courage and power to 
fit these offices." 



COUGH'S WARNING TO YOUNG MEN. 



OHN B. GOUGH, the wonderfully 
impassioned temperance advocate, ex- 
ercised a remarkable power over young 
men. He could do with them as he wished; 
he made them laugh or cry at will, and no 
one can estimate the good he did. His 
speeches were often classic: 

"Men talk about enjoyment in drinking! 
There is really none. It is merely momen- 
tary and imaginary. No man ever received 
satisfaction enough in wicked pursuits to 
say, 'Ah, now I am happy!' It is gone from 
him. All the enjoyments that can be ob- 
tained in this world, apart from the enjoy- 
ments God has sanctioned, lead to destruc- 
tion. It is as if a man should start in a 
chase after a bubble, attracted by its bright 
and gorgeous hues. It leads him through 
vineyards, under trellised vines with grapes 
hanging in all their purpled glory; it leads 
him past sparkling fountains, amid the 
music of singing birds; it leads him 
through orchards hanging thick with gold- 
en fruit. He laughs and dances. It is a 



merry chase. By and by that excitement 
becomes intense, that intensity becomes a 
passion, that passion a disease. Now his eye 
is fixed upon the bubble with fretful earn- 
estness. Now he leaps with desperation and 
disappointment. Now it leads him away 
from all that is bright and beautiful, from 
all the tender, clustering, hallowed associa- 
tions of bygone days, up the steep hot sides 
of a fearful volcano. Now there is pain 
and anguish in the chase. He leaps and 
falls, and rises, bruised, scorched, and blis- 
tered; but the excitement has the mastery 
over him ; he forgets all that is past, and in 
his terrible chase he leaps again. It is gone! 
He curses, and bites his lips in agony, and 
shrieks almost the wild shriek of despair. 
Yet still he pursues his prize. He must se- 
cure it. Knee-deep in the hot ashes, he 
falls, then up again with limbs torn and 
bruised, the last semblance of humanity 
scorched out of him. Yet there is his prize! 
He will have it. With one desperate effort 
he makes a sudden leap. Ah, he has it 




PHILLIPS BROOKS, who deservedly ranks among the first of American pulpit orators, 
was born in Boston, in 1835, and with the exception of a few years his home was always 
there. After being graduated from Harvard University in 1855 he studied theology at 
Alexandria, Virginia, and was ordained in 1859. In 1862 he accepted the call from Holy 
Trinity Church, at Boston, and soon had a large and devoted following. Rev. Dr. Brooks 
was an indefatigable worker for forty years or more, and in voicing his opinions and con- 
clusious his eloquence was electrifyjng. He was also the author of several standard works. 



436 



AMERICAN ORATIONS. 



now; but he has leaped into the volcano, 
and, with a burst bubble in his hand, goes 
to his retribution. Heaven pity every man 
who follows, and is fascinated by, an enjoy- 
ment God has not sanctioned. The result 
of all God's good gifts to him is a burst 
bubble! 

"Enjoyment! We have wonderful capac- 
ities for enjoyment and wonderful sources 
of enjoyment. But I have come to this con- 
clusion, young men, that there is no enjoy- 
ment worth having for which you cannot 
thank God. None! And if you can get 



drunk, and then thank God for it the next 
morning, then I have nothing more to say 
to you. * * * 

"And that one fact of a little temporary 
gratification is all that you can bring in 
favor of the drink! Why, if there was no 
gratification, there would be no danger. It 
is the gratification to a man of nervous sus- 
ceptibility that constitutes the danger. 
* * * It is no more degrading to be brutal- 
ly drunk than it is to be sillily drunk. The 
very fact of intoxication is debasing." 



MARY, THE MOTHER OF JESUS. 



EV. PHILLIPS BROOKS was the 
center of a large circle of New Eng- 
land, the prophet of a following which 
was constantly increasing and which ac- 
cepted no other leader after his death. One 
of his most striking sermons was that in 
which he dealt with the Mother of the 
Savior: 

"The Virgin Mary is the perpetual type 
of people who, intrusted with any great and 
sacred interest, identify their own lives with 
that interest and care for it conscientiously; 
but who, by-and-by, when the interest be- 
gins to manifest its own vitality and to 
shape its own methods, are filled with per- 
plexity. They cannot keep the causes for 

which they labor under their own care. 
* * * I 

"The mother of Jesus is the speaker, and 
it is of Jesus that she asks her question. 
On the way home from the temple at Jeru- 
salem, where they had gone to worship, you 
remember, they missed the child Jesus from 
their company. On going back they found 
him in the temple, 'sitting in the midst of 
the doctors, both hearing them and asking 
them c]uestions.' Then it was that his 
mother said unto him, 'Son, why hast thou 
thus dealt with us? Behold thy father and 



I have sought thee sorrowing.' And he 
said unto them, 'How is it that ye sought 
me? Wist ye not that I must be about my 
Father's business?' 

" 'Why hast thou dealt thus with us?' 
It is a puzzled question. The boy who had 
been .an obedient child in her household, 
whom she had cared for in her own way 
and found always docile to her guidance, 
had suddenly passed beyond her and done 
a thing which she could not understand. It 
seemed as if she had lost him. Her tone 
is full of love, but there is something almost 
like jealousy about it. He has taken him- 
self into his own keeping, and this one act 
seems to foretell the time when he will take 
his whole life into his own hands, and leave 
her outside altogether. The time has passed 
when she could hold him as a babe upon 
her bosom as she carried him down into 
Egypt. The time is prophesied already 
when he should go in his solitude up to the 
cross, and only leave his mother weeping 
at the foot. She is bidden to stand by and 
see her Son do his work and live his life, 
which thus far has been all of her shaping, 
in ways she cannot understand. No won- 
der that it is a clear, critical moment in her 
life. No wonder that her question still rings 



AMERICAN ORATIONS. 



437 



with the pain that she put into it. * * * 
"Mary learned two things about her Son 
that day in the temple, things which she 
had known before, but which became per- 
fectly and permanently clear to her there. 
One was, that his life was mysteriously 
larger than her own. The other was, that 
God was over and behind her, caring for 
that life for which she had been caring. The 
largeness and mystery of her Son's life 
and the fatherhood of God to him, those 
two things she learned there, and thence- 



forth they were part of her life always. She 
never can have forgotten them again. They 
must have made all the future service that 
she rendered to him at once more faithful 
and more calm and more sacred. And, mv 
dear friend, you, too, must learn these 
truths about the life of any man whom you 
are trying to help, any man who seems to 
be committed to you by God, or you can- 
not really help him as he needs. You must 
know the mystery of his life and his son- 
ship to God." 



HENRY GEORGE ON THE PRODUCER AND CONSUMER. 



ctm ENRY GEORGE was among the 

1 1 most remarkable men the Nine- 
teenth Century produced, and, as a writer 
and speaker, possessed great power and in- 
fluence. His book, "Progress and Poverty," 
which, to use his own words, is "an inquiry 
into the cause of industrial depressions, and 
of increase of want with increase of 
wealth," is regarded as the ablest effort of 
his life. 

Julian Hawthorne wrote the following 
graphic description of him: 

"A little man, not taller than a woman, 
with a backbone like an oak; courageous 
gray eyes, full of keen light and honesty; 
a short red-brown beard, crinking with the 
nervous energy of aggressive and uncon- 
querable convictions; a light step, a care- 
less costume, a ready sympathy and a brist- 
ling independence not less alert; in his 
gaze by turns the vision of the poet and the 
fiery assurance of the fanatic; a man who 
had known hard labor and poor days; all 
but starvation and all but despair; a man 
who had blundered bewildered for five and 
twenty years, and then in a moment caught 
from on high a ray of light which guided 
him till his death ; a man of original force 
and creative insight, who, single-handed, 



conquered the world before his familiar 
friends suspected him." 

Mr. George's views on the subject of 
the producer and the consumer are of more 
than ordinary interest. Said he: 

"Speaking absolutely, man neither pro- 
duces nor consumes. The whole human 
race, were they to labor to infinity, could 
not make this roiling sphere one atom 
heavier or one atom lighter, could not add 
to or diminish by one iota the sum of the 
forces whose everlasting circling produces 
all motion and sustains all life. As the 
water that we take from the ocean must 
again return to the ocean, so the food we 
take from the reservoirs of nature is, from 
the moment we take it, on its way back to 
those reservoirs. 

"What we draw from a limited extent of 
land may temporarily reduce the produc- 
tiveness of that land, because the return 
may be to other land, or may be divided 
between that land and other land, or, per- 
haps, all land; but this possibility lessens 
with increasing area, and ceases when the 
whole globe is considered. That the earth 
could maintain a thousand billions of peo- 
ple as easily as a thousand millions is a 
necessary deduction from the manifest 




HENRY GEORGE, one of the greatest of America's political economists and sociolo- 
gists, known as the "Single-Tax Prophet," was a native of Philadelphia, having been born 
there in 1839. His most celebrated work was "Progress and Poverty," which gave him a 
world-wide fame. As an orator Mr. George was earnest, forcible and magnetic. In 1886 
he was the candidate of the United Labor Party for Mayor of New York, but was unsuc- 
cessful, and in 1897 sought the mayoralty of Greater New York. Pie died a few days before 
the election. His works have been translated into several languages. 



A M E R I C A N ORATION S. 



439 



truths that, at least so far as our agency is 
concerned, matter is eternal and force must 
forever continue to act. 

"Life does not use up the forces that 
maintain Hfe. We come into the material 
universe bringing nothing; we take noth- 
ing away when we depart. The human 
being, physicall)^ considered, is but a tran- 
sient form of matter, a changing mode of 
motion. The matter remains and the force 
persists. Nothing is lessened, nothing is 
weakened. And from this it follows that 
the limit to the population of the globe can 
be only the limit of space. 

"Now this limitation of space — this 
danger that the human race may increase 
beyond the possibility of finding elbow 
room — is so far off as to have for us no 
more practical interest than the recurrence 
of the glacial period or the final extinguish- 
ment of the sun. 

"Yet remote and shadowy as it is, it is 
this possibility which gives to the Mal- 
thusian theory its apparently self-evident 
character. But if we follow it, even this 
shadow will disappear. It, also, springs 
from a false analogy. That vegetable and 
animal life tend to press against the limits 
of space does not prove the same tendency 
in human life. 

"Granted that man is only a more highly 
developed animal; that the ring-tailed 
monkey is a distant relative who has grad- 
ually developed acrobatic tendencies, and 
the hump-backed whale a far-ofif connec- 
tion who in early life took to the sea — 
granted that back of these he is kin to the 
vegetable, and is still subject to the same 
laws as plants, fishes, birds, and beasts. 
Yet there is still this difference between 
man and all other animals — he is the only 
animal whose desires increase as they are 
fed; the only animal that is never satisfied. 

"The wants of every other living thing 
are uniform and fixed. The ox of to-dav 



aspires to no more than did the ox when 
man first yoked him. The sea gull of the 
English Channel, who poises himself above 
the swift steamer, wants no better food or 
lodging than the gulls who circled round as 
the keels of Caesar's galleys first grated on 
a British beach. Of all that nature offers 
them, be it ever so abundant, all living 
things save man can take, and care for, 
only enough to supply wants which are 
definite and fixed. The only use they can 
miake of additional supplies or additional 
opportunities is to multiply. 

"But not so with man. No sooner are 
his animal wants satisfied than new wants 
arise Food he wants first, as does the 
beast; shelter next, as does the beast; and 
these given, his reproductive instincts as- 
sert their sway, as do those of the beast. 
But here man and beast part company. 
The beast never goes further; the man has 
but set his feet on the first step of an in- 
finite progression — a progression upon 
which the beast never enters, a progression 
away from and above the beast. 

"The demand for quantity once satisfied, 
he seeks quality. The very desires that he 
has in common with the beast become ex- 
tended, refined, exalted. It is not merely 
hunger, but taste, that seeks gratification 
m food; in clothes, he seeks not merely 
comfort, but adornment; the rude shelter 
becomes a house ; the undiscriminating 
sexual attraction begins to transmute itself 
into subtile influences, and the hard and 
common stock of animal life to blossom, 
and to bloom into shapes of delicate 
beauty. 

"As power to gratify his wants increases, 
so does aspiration grow. Held down to 
lower levels of desire, LucuUus will sup 
with Lucullus; twelve boars turn on spits 
that Anthony's mouthful of meat may be 
done to a turn; every kingdom of Nature 
be ransacked to add to Cleopatra's charms. 



440 



AMERICAN ORATIONS. 



and marble colonnades and hanging" gar- 
dens and pyramids that rival the hills arise. 

"Passing into higher forms of desire, that 
which slumbered in the plant and fitfully 
stirred in the beast, awakes in the man. The 
eyes of the mind are opened, and he longs 
to know. He braves the scorching heat 
of the desert and the icy blasts of the polar 
sea, but not for food; he watches all night, 
but it is to trace the circling of the eternal 
stars. He adds toil to toil, to gratify a 
hunger no animal has felt; to assuage a 
thirst no beast can know. 

"Out upon nature, in upon himself, back 
through the mists that shroud the past, 
forward into the darkness that overhangs 
the future, turns the restless desire that 
arises when the animal wants slumber in 
satisfaction. Beneath things, he seeks the 
law; he would know how the globe was 
forged and the stars were hung, and trace 
to their origin the springs of life. And, 
then, as the man develops his nobler na- 
ture, there arises the desire higher yet — 
the passion of passions, the hope of hopes 
— the desire that he, even he, may some- 
now aid in making life better and brighter, 
in destroying want and sin, sorrow and 
shame. 

"He masters and curbs the animal; he 
turns his back upon the beast and re- 
nounces the place of power ; he leaves it to 
others to accumulate wealth, to gratify 
pleasant tastes, to bask themselves in the 
warm sunshine of the brief day. He works 
for those he never saw and never can see; 
for a fame, or maybe but for a scant justice, 
that can only come long after the clods 
have rattled upon his coffin lid. He toils 
in the advance, where it is cold, and there 
is little cheer from men, and the stones are 
sharp and the brambles thick. 

"Amid the scofifs of the present and the 
sneers that stab like knives, he builds for 
the future; he cuts the trail that progressive 



humanity may hereafter broaden into a 
highroad. Into higher, grander spheres 
desire mounts and beckons, and a star that 
rises in the east leads him on. Lo! the 
pulses of the man throb with the yearnings 
of the god — he would aid in the process 
of the suns! 

"Is not the gulf too wide for the analogy 
to span? Give more food, open fuller con- 
ditions of life, and the vegetable or animal 
can but multiply; the man will develop. 
In the one the expansive force can but ex- 
tend existence in new numbers; in the 
other, it will inevitably tend to extend ex- 
istence in higher forms and wider powers. 

"Man is an animal; but he is an animal 
plus something else. He is the mythic 
earth-tree, whose roots are in the ground, 
but whose topmost branches may blossom 
in the heavens! 

"Whichever way it be turned^ the rea- 
soning by which this theory of the constant 
tendency of population to press against the 
limits of subsistence is supported shows an 
unwarranted assumption, an undistributed 
middle, as the logicians would say. Facts 
do not warrant it, analogy does not counte- 
nance it. It is a pure chimera of the imag- 
ination, such as those that for a long time 
prevented men from recognizing the ro- 
tundity and motion of the earth." * * '^ 

* * * "Where will you find in 
largest proportion those whom the general 
production suffices to keep without pro- 
ductive labor on their part — men of income 
and of elegant leisure, thieves, policemen, 
menial servants, lawyers, men of letters, 
and the like? Is it not where population is 
dense rather than where it is sparse? 

"Whence is it that capital overflows for 
remunerative investment? Is it not from 
densely populated countries to sparsely 
populated countries? These things con- 
clusively show that wealth is greatest 
where population is densest; that the pro- 



AMERICAN ORATIONS. 



441 



duction of wealth to a given amount of 
labor increases as population increases. 
These things .are apparent wherever we 
turn our eyes. 

"On the same level of civilization, the 
same stage of the productive arts, govern- 
ment, etc., the most populous countries are 
always the most wealthy." 

;;< ;|; ;;C ij: ;■; ;■; , ijc Jj; ^ ^ ^ 

"The view which now dominates the 
world of thought is this : That the struggle 
for existence, just in proportion as it be- 
comes intense, impels men to new efforts 
and inventions. That this improvement 
and capacity for improvement is fixed by 
hereditary transmission, and extended by 
the tendency of the best adapted individual, 
or most improved individual, to survive 
and propagate among individuals, and of 
the best adapted, or most improved tribe, 
nation, or race to survive in the struggle 
between social aggregates. On this the- 
ory the differences between man and the 
animals, and differences in the relative 
progress of men, are now explained as con- 
fidently, and all but as generally, as a little 
while ago they were explained upon the 



theory of special creation and divine inter- 
position. 

"The practical outcome of this theory is 
in a sort of hopeful fatalism, of which cur- 
rent literature is full. In this view, prog- 
ress is the result of forces which work 
slowly, steadily and remorselessly for the 
elevation of man. War, slavery, tyranny, 
superstition, famine, and pestilence, the 
want and misery which fester in modern 
civilization, are the impelling causes which 
drive man on, by eliminating poorer types 
and extending the higher; and hereditary 
transmission is the power by which ad- 
vances are fixed, and past advances made 
the footing for new advances. 

♦ * * "But this I take to be the cur- 
rent view of civilization: That it is the re- 
sult of forces, operating in the way in- 
dicated, which slowly change the character, 
and improve and elevate the powers of 
man; that the difference between civilized 
man and savage is of a long race educa- 
tion, which has become permanently fixed 
in mental organization ; and that this im- 
provement tends to go on increasingly, to 
a higher and higher civilization." 



WM. M'KINLEY ON THE MARTYRED PRESIDENT. 



NE of the finest tributes ever paid the 
character and memory of any man 
was that of William McKinley to Abraham 
Lincoln in an address delivered a short 
time prior to his first election as President 
of the United States. 

President McKinley was a superb orator, 
and deserves to be ranked among the most 
eloquent men in the world. 

'Tt requires the most gracious pages in 
the world's history to record what one 
American achieved. 

"The story of this simple life is the story 
of a plain, honest, manly citizen, true 
patriot and profound statesman, who, be- 



lieving with all the strength of his mighty 
soul in the institutions of his country, won, 
because of them, the highest place in its 
government, then fell a precious sacrifice 
to the Union he held so dear, which Provi- 
dence had spared his life long enough to 
save. 

"We meet to do honor to this immortal 
hero, Abraham Lincoln, whose achieve- 
ments have heightened human aspirations 
and broadened the field of opportunity to 
the races of men. * * * 

"What were the traits of character which 
made Abraham Lincoln prophet and mas- 
ter, without a rival, in the greatest crisis in 




WI] 1 1 AM ALIJ\LL\— 1 , f 1. l.._-J_... _. .L_ 1 J b , L_..- Jan. 

29, 184,3, at Niles, Ohio. He enlisted as a private in the Twenty-third Ohio Volunteer In- 
fantry, June II, 1861 ; was brevetted Major in the United States Volunteers March 13, 1865, 
by President Lincoln. Was member of the National House of Representatives for fourteen 
years, beginning in 1877 ; was governor of Ohio 1892-94 and 1894-96. He was elected the 
twenty-fourth President of the United States, was re-elected for the following term, be- 
ginning March 4, 1901. Friday afternoon, Sept. 6, 1901, he was shot, and died at Buffalo, 
N. Y., Sept. 14, 1901. 



AMERICAN ORATIONS. 



443 



our history? What gave him such mighty 
power? To me the answer is simple: 

"Lincoln had sublime faith in the people. 
He walked with and among them. He 
recognized the importance and power of an 
enlightened public sentiment and was 
guided by it. Even amid the vicissitudes 
of war he concealed little from public view^ 
and inspection. In all he did he invited, 
rather than evaded, examination and criti- 
cism. He submitted his plans and pur- 
poses, as far as practicable, to public con- 
sideration with perfect frankness and sin- 
cerity. 

"There was such homely simplicity in 
his character that it could not be hedged in 
by pomp of place, nor the ceremonials of 
high ofilicial station. He was so accessible 
to the public that he seemed to take the 
whole people into his confidence. 

"Here, perhaps, was one secret of his 
power. The people never lost their confi- 
dence in him, however much they uncon- 
sciously added to his personal discomfort 
and trials. 

"His patience was almost superhuman, 
and who will say that he was mistaken in 
his treatment of the thousands who 
thronged continually about him? 

"More than once when reproached for 
permitting visitors to crowd upon him he 
asked, in pained surprise, 'Why, what harm 
does this confidence in men do me? I get 
only good and inspiration from it.' 

"George Bancroft, the historian, alluding 
to this characteristic, which was never so 
conspicuously manifested as during the 
darker hours of the war, beautifully illus- 
trated it in these memorable words: 

" 'As a child in a dark night, on a rugged 
way, catches hold of the hand of its father 
for guidance and support, Lincoln clung 
fast to the hand of the people and moved 
calmly through the gloom.' * * * 

"Among the statesmen of America, Lin- 



coln is the true democrat, and, Franklin 
perhaps excepted, the first great one. 

"He had no illustrious ancestry, no 
inherited place or wealth, and none of the 
prestige, power, training or culture which 
were assured to the gentry or landed 
classes of our own colonial times. 

"Nor did Lincoln believe that these 
classes, respectable and patriotic however 
they might be, should as a matter of 
abstract right have the controlling influ- 
ence in our government. Instead, he be- 
lieved in the all-pervading power of public 
opinion. 

"Lincoln had little or no instruction in 
the common school, but, as the eminent 
Dr. Cuyler has said, he was graduated from 
'the grand college of free labor, whose 
works were the flatboat, the farm and the 
l)ackwoods lawyer's office.' 

"He had a broad comprehension of the 
central idea of popular government. The 
Declaration of Independence was his hand- 
book; time and again he expressed his 
belief in freedom and equality. 

"July I St, 1854, he wrote: 

" 'Most governments have been based, 
practically, on the denial of the ec[ual rights 
of men. Ours began by affirming those 
rights. They said, "Some men are too 
ignorant and vicious to share in govern- 
ment." "Possibly so," said we, "and by your 
system you would always keep them ignor- 
ant and vicious. We propose to give all a 
chance, and we expect the weak to grow 
stronger, the ignorant wiser, and all better 
and happier together." We made the 
experiment, and the fruit is before us. 
Look at it, think of it! Look at it in its 
aggregate grandeur, extent of country, and 
numbers of population.' 

"Lincoln beUeved in the uplifting influ- 
ences of free government, and that by giv- 
ing all a chance we could get higher aver- 
age results for the people than where gov- 



444 



AMERICAN ORATIONS. 



ernments are exclusive and opportunities 
are limited to the few. 

"No American ever did so much as he 
to enlarge these opportunities, or tear down 
the barriers which exclude a free participa- 
tion in them. * :^' * 

"Lincoln was essentially a man of peace. 
He inherited from his Quaker forefathers 
an intense opposition to war. During his 
brief service in Congress he found occasion 
mor-e than once to express it. 

"He opposed the Mexican war from 
principle, but voted men and supplies after 
hostilities actually began. In one of his 
speeches in the House, he characterized 
military glory as 'that rainbow that rises 
in showers of blood — that serpent that 
charms but to destroy.' When he became 
responsible for the welfare of the country, 
he was none the less earnest for peace. 

"He felt that even in the most righteous 
cause w.ar is a fearful thing, and he was 
actuated by the feeHng that it ought not 
Lo be begun except as a last resort, and 
then only after it had been precipitated by 
the enemies of the country. 

"He said, in Philadelphia, February 22d, 
1861: 

" 'There is no need of bloodshed and 
war. There is no necessity for it. I am 
not in favor of such a course; and I may 
say in advance that there will be no blood- 
shed unless it is forced upon the govern- 
ment. The government will not use force 
unless force is used against it.' 

"In the selection of his Cabinet, he at 
once showed his greatness and magna- 
nimity. His principal rivals for the presi- 
dential nomination were invited to seats in 
his council chamber. 

"No one but a great man, conscious of 
his own strength, would have done this. It 
was soon perceived that his greatness was 
in no sense obscured by the presence of the 
distinguished men who sat about him. 



"The most gifted statesmen of the coun- 
try— Seward, Chase, Cameron, Stanton, 
Blair, Bates, Welles, Fessenden and Den- 
nison, some of whom had been leaders in 
the Senate of the United States— composed 
that historic Cabinet, and the man who had 
been sneered at as 'the rail-splitter' suf- 
fered nothing by such association and com- 
parison. 

"He was a leader in fact as well as 
name. 

"Magnanimity was one of Lincoln's most 
striking traits. Patriotism moved him at 
every step. At the beginning of the war 
he placed at the head of three most impor- 
tant military departments three of his polit- 
ical opponents— Patterson, Butler and 
McClellan. 

"He did not propose to make it a parti- 
san war. He sought by every means in 
his power to enlist all who were patriots. 

"In his message of July 4, 1861, he stated 
his purpose in these words: 

" 'I desire to preserve the government, 
that it may be administered for all as it was 
administered by the men who made it. 

" 'On the side of the Union it is a 
struggle to maintain in the world that form 
and substance of government whose lead- 
ing object is to elevate the condition of 
men, lift artificial burdens from all shoul- 
ders, and clear the paths of laudable pur- 
suits for all, to afiford all an unfettered start 
and a fair chance in the race of life. This 
is the lending object of the government for 
whose existence we contend.' 

"Mar y people were impatient at Lin- 
coln's conservatism. He gave the South 
every chance possible. He pleaded with 
them v/ith an earnestness that was pathetic. 
"He recognized that "the South was not 
alone to blame for the existence of slavery, 
but that the sin was a national one. 

"He sought to impress upon the South 
that he would not use his office as presi- 



AMERICAN ORATIONS. 



445 



dent to take away from them any consti- 
tutional right, great or smah. 

"In his first inaugural he addressed the 
men of the South as well ,as the North as 
his 'coHntrymen,' one .and all, and, with an 
outburst of indescribable tenderness, ex- 
claimed: 'We are not enemies, but friends, 
We must not be enemies.' And then in 
those wondrously sweet and touching- 
words which even yet thrill the heart, he 
said: 'Though passion may have strained, 
it must not break our bonds of afifection. 
The mystic chords of memory, stretching 
from every battlefield and patriot grave to 
every living heart and hearthstone all over 
this broad land, will yet swell the chorus of 
the Union when again touched, as surely 
they will be, by the better angels of our 
nature,' 

"But his words were unheeded. The 
mighty war came, with its dreadful train. 
Knowing no wrong, he dreaded no evil for 
himself. He had done all he could to save 
the country by peaceful means. He had 



entreated and expostulated, now he would 
do and dare. He had, in words of solemn 
import, w^arned the men of the South. 

"He had appealed to their patriotism b\ 
the sacred memories of the battlefields of 
the Revolution, on which the patriot blood 
of their .ancestors had been so bravely shed; 
not to break up the Union. Yet all in vain. 
'Both parties deprecated war, but one 
would make war rather than let the nation 
Survive, and the other would accept war 
rather than let it perish. And the war 
came.' 

"Lincoln did .all he could to avert it, but 
there was no hesitation on his part when 
the sword of rebellion flashed from its 
scabbard. He was from that moment until 
the close of his life unceasingly devoted 
and consecrated to the great purpose of 
saving the Union. 

"All other matters he regarded as trivial, 
and every movement, of whatever charac- 
ter, whether important or unimportant of 
itself, was bent to that end." 



EMERSON ON "THE SOUL'S PROVIDENCE." 



HE following is a part of the masterly 
address of Ralph Waldo Emerson on 
"The Soul's Providence," delivered before 
the Senior Class, Divinity College, Cam- 
bridge, Massachusetts, in July, 1838: 

"The sentiment of virtue is a reverence 
and delight in the presence of certain divine 
laws. It perceives that this homely game 
of life we play, covers, under what seemed 
foolish details, principles that astonish. 
The child, amidst his baubles, is learning 
the action of light, motion, gravity, muscu- 
lar force; and in the game of numan life, 
love, fear, justice, appetite, man, and God, 
interact. These laws refuse to be ade- 
quately stated. 

"They will not be written out on paper, 
or spoken by the tongue. They elude our 



persevering thought ; yet we read them ' 
hourly in each other's faces, in each other's 
actions, in our own remorse. The moral 
traits which are all globed into every vir- 
tuous act and thought, — in speech, we must 
sever, and describe or suggest by painful 
enumeration of many particulars. 

"Yet. as this sentiment is the essence of 
all religion, let me guide your eye to the 
precise objects of the sentiment, by an enu- 
meration of some of those classes of facts 
in which this element is conspicuous. 

"The intuition of the moral sentiment is 
an insight of the perfection of the laws of 
the soul. These laws execute themselves. 
They are out of time, out of space, and not 
subject to circumstance. Thus; in the soul 
of man there is a justice whose retributions 



AMERICAN ORATIONS. 



447 



are instant and entire. He who does a good 
deed, is instantly ennobled. 

"He who does a mean deed, is by the 
action itself contracted. He Avho puts off 
impurity, thereby puts on purity. If a man 
is at heart just, then in so far is he God; 
the safety of God, the immortality of God, 
the majesty of God do enter into that man 
with justice. If a man dissemble, deceive, 
he deceives himself, and goes out of ac- 
quaintance with his own being. 

"A man in the view of absolute good- 
ness, adores, with total humility. Every 
step so downward, is a step upward. The 
man who renounces himself, comes to him- 
self. 

"See how this rapid intrinsic energy 
worketh everywhere, righting wrongs, cor- 
recting appearances, and bringing up facts 
to .a harmony with thoughts. Its operation 
in life, though slow to the senses, is, at last, 
as sure as in the soul. By it, a man is made 
the Providence to himself, dispensing good 
to his goodness, and evil to his sin. 

"Character is always known. Thefts 
never enrich; alms never impoverish; mur- 
der will speak out of stone walls. The least 
admixture of a lie, — for example, the taint 
of vanity, the least attempt to make a good 
impression, a favorable appearance, — will 
instantly vitiate the effect. But speak the 
truth, and all nature and all spirits help you 
with unexpected furtherance. 

"Speak the truth, and all things alive or 
brute are vouchers, and the very roots of 
the grass underground there, do seem to 
stir and move to bear you witness. See 
again the perfection of the Law as it applies 
itself to the affections, and becomes the law 
of society ._ As we are, so we associate. The 
good, by affinity, seek the good; the vile, 
by affinity, the vile. Thus of their own 
volition, souls proceed into heaven, into 
liell. 

"These facts have always suggested to 



man the sublime creed that the world is 
not the product of manifold power, but of 
one will, of one mind; and that one mind 
is everywhere active, in each ray of the 
star, in each wavelet of the pool ; and what- 
ever opposes that will is everywhere balked 
and baffled, because things are made so, 
and not otherwise. 

"Good is positive. Evil is merely priva- 
tive, not absolute; it is hke cold, which is 
the privation of heat. All evil is so much 
death or nonentity. Benevolence is abso- 
lute and real. So much benevolence as a 
man hath, so much life hath he. For all 
things proceed out of this same spirit, 
which is differently named love, justice, 
temperance, in its different appHcations, 
just as the ocean receives different names 
on the several shores which it washes. 

"All things proceed out of the same 
spirit, and all things conspire with it. Whilst 
a man seeks good ends, he is strong by the 
whole strength of nature. In so far as he 
roves from these ends, he bereaves himself 
of power, of auxiliaries; his being shrinks 
out of all remote channels, he becomes less 
and less, .a mote, a point, until absolute 
badness is absolute death. 

"The perception of this law of lav/s 
awakens in the mind a sentiment which we 
call the religious sentiment, and which 
makes our highest happiness. Wonderful 
is its power to charm and to command. 
It is a mountain ,air. It is the embalmer 
of the world. It is myrrh, and storax, and 
chlorine and rosemary. It makes the sky 
and the hills sublime, and the silent song 
of the stars is it. By it, is the universe 
made safe and habitable, not by science or 
power. 

"Thought may work cold and intransi- 
tive in things, and find no end or unity; 
but the dawn of the sentiment of virtue on 
the heart gives and is the assurance that 
Law is sovereign over all natures ; and the 



448 



AMERICAN ORATIONS. 



worlds, time, space, eternity, do seem to 
break out into joy. 

"This sentiment is divine and deifying. 
It is the beatitude of man. It makes him 
illimitable. Through it, the soul first knows 
itself. It corrects the capital mistake of 
the infant man, who seeks to be great by 
following the great, and hopes to derive 
advantages from another, — by showing the 
fountain of all good to be in himself, and 
that he, equally with every man, is an inlet 
into the deeps of Reason. When he says, 
T ought;' when love warms him; when he 
chooses, warned from on high, the good 
and great deed; then, deep melodies 
wander through his soul from Supreme 
Wisdom. 

"Then he can worship, and be enlarged 
by his worship ; for he can never go behind 
this sentiment. In the sublimest flights of 
the soul, rectitude is never surmounted, 
love is never outgrown. 

"This sentiment lies at the foundation of 
society, and successfully creates all forms 
of worship. The principle of veneration 
never dies out. Man fallen into supersti- 
tion, into sensuality, is never quite without 
the visions of the moral sentiment. In like 
manner, all the expressions of this senti- 
ment are sacred and permanent in propor- 
tion to their purity. The expressions of 
this sentiment ,afifect us more than all other 
compositions. The sentences of the oldest 
time, which ejaculate this piety, are still 
fresh and fragrant. 

"This thought dwelled always deepest in 
the minds of men in the devout and con- 
templative East; not alone in Palestine, 
where it reached its purest expression, but 
in Egypt, in Persia, in India, in China. 
Europe has .always owed to Oriental 
genius its divine impulses. What these 
holy bards said, all sane men found agree- 
able and true And the unique impression 
of Jesus upon mankind, whose name is not 



so much written as plowed into the history 
of this world, is proof of the subtle virtue 
of this infusion. 

"Meantime, whilst the doors of the tem- 
ple stand open, night and day, before every 
man, and the oracles of this truth cease 
never, it is guarded by one stern condition; 
this, namely; it is an intuition. It cannot 
be received at second hand. Truly speak- 
ing, it is not instruction, but provocation, 
that I can receive from another soul. What 
he announces, I must find true in me, or 
wholly reject; and on his word, or as his 
second, be he who he may, I can accept 
nothing. On the contrary, the absence of 
this primary faith is the presence of degra-. 
dation. 

"As is the flood so is the ebb. Let this 
faith depart, and the very words it spake, 
and the things it made, become false and 
hurtful. Then falls the church, the state, 
art, letters, life. The doctrine of the divine 
nature being forgotten, a sickness infects 
and dwarfs the constitution. Once man was 
all; now he is an appendage, a nuisance. 
And because the indwelling Supreme Spirit 
cannot wholly be got rid of, the doctrine 
of it sufifers this perversion, that the divine 
nature is attributed to one or two persons, 
and denied to all the rest, and denied with 
fury. 

"The doctrine of inspiration is lost; the 
base doctrine of the majority of voices 
usurps the place of the doctrine of the soul. 
Miracles, prophecy, poetry, the ideal life, 
the holy life, exist as ancient history mere- 
ly; they are not in the belief, nor in the 
aspiration of society ; but when suggested, 
seem ridiculous. Life is comic or pitiful, 
as soon as the high ends of being fade out 
of sight, and man becomes near-sighted, 
and can only attend to what addresses the 
senses. 

"These general views, which, whilst they 
are general, none will contest, find abun- 



AMERICAN ORATIONS. 



449 



dant illustration in the history of religion, 
and especially in the history of the Chris- 
tian church. In that, all of us have had our 
birth and nurture. The truth contained in 
that, you, my young friends, are now set- 
ting forth to teach. As the Cultus, or 
established worship of the civilized world, 
it has great historical interest for us. Of 
its blessed words, which have been the con- 
solation of humanity, you need not that I 
should speak. I shall endeavor to discharge 
my duty to you, on this occasion, by point- 
ing out two errors in its administration, 
which daily appear more gross from the 
point of view we have just now taken. 

"Jesus Christ belonged to the true race 
of prophets. He saw with open eye the 
mystery of the soul. Drawn by its severe 
harmony, ravished with its beauty, He lived 
in it, .and had His being there. Alone in all 
history, He estimated the greatness of man. 
One man was true to what is in you and me. 
He saw that God incarnates himself in man, 
and evermore goes forth anew to take 
possession of his world. He said, in this 
jubilee of sublime- emotion, T am divine. 
Through me, God acts; through me, 
speaks. Would you see God, see me; or, 
see thee, when thou also thinkest as I now 
think.' 

"But what a distortion did His doctrine 
and memory suffer in the same, in the 
next, and the following ages! There is no 
doctrine of the Reason which will bear to 
be taught by the Understanding. The 
Understanding caught this high chant from 
the poet's lips, and said, in the next age, 
"This was Jehovah come down out of 
heaven. I will kill you, if you will say He 
was a man.' The idioms of His language, 
and the figures of His rhetoric, have 
usurped the place of His truth; and 
churches are not built on His principles, 
but on His tropes. 

"Christianitv became a Mvthus, as the 



poetic teaching of Greece and of Egypt, 
before. He spoke of miracles; for he felt 
that man's life was a miracle, and all that 
man doth, and he knew that this daily 
miracle shines, as the character ascends. 
But the word Miracle, as pronounced by 
Christian churches, gives a false impres- 
sion. It is not one with the blowing clover 
and the falling rain. * * * 

"That is always best which gives me to 
myself. The sublime is excited in me by 
the great stoical doctrine, Obey thyself. 
That which shows God in me, fortifies me. 
That which shows God out of me, makes 
me a wart and a wen. There is no longer 
a necessary reason for my being. Already 
the long shadows of untimely oblivion 
creep over me, and I shall decrease for- 
ever. 

"The divine bards are the friends of my 
virtue, of my intellect, of my strength. 
They admonish me, that the gleams which 
flash across my mind are not mine, but 
God's; that they had the like, and were not 
disobedient to the heavenly vision. So I 
love them. Noble provocations go out from 
them, inviting me to resist evil; to subdue 
the world; and to Be. And this by His 
holy thoughts, Jesus serves us, and thus 
only. * * * 

"Preaching is the expression of the moral 
sentiment in application to the duties of 
life. In how many churches, by how many 
prophets, tell me, is man made sensible that 
he is an infinite Soul; that the earth and 
the heavens are passing into his mind; that 
he is drinking forever the soul of God? 
Where now sounds the persuasion, that by 
its very melody imparadises my heart, and 
so afifirms its own origin in heaven? Where 
shall I hear words such as in elder ages 
drew men to leave all and follow, — father 
and mother, house and land, wife and child? 
Where shall I hear these august laws of 
moral being so pronounced as to fill my 




WILLIAM JENNINGS BRYAN was born at Salem, Illinois, in i860, and enjoyed the 
distinction of being the youngest man ever nominated for the Presidency of the United 
States, being but 36 years of age when named by the Democratic National Convention at 
Chicago in 1896. Mr. Bryan was also the candidate of his party for the Presidency in 
1900, and was beaten for the second time by William McKinley. He is recorded as one 
of the best public speakers in the country, having a full, rich voice and handsome presence. 
His speech at the Chicago Convention in 1896 led to his nomination for the Presidency. 



AMERICAN ORATIONS. 



451 



ear, and X feel ennobled by the offer of my 
uttermost action and passion? 

"The test of the true faith, certainly, 
should be its power to charm and command 
the soul, as the laws of nature control the 
activity of the hands, — so commanding that 
we find pleasure and honor in obeying. The 
faith should blend with the light of rising 
and of setting suns, with the flying cloud, 
the singing bird, and the breath of flowers. 
But now the priest's Sabbath has lost the 
splendor of nature ; it is unlovely ; we are 
glad when it is done; we can make, we 
do make, even sitting in our pews, a far 
better, holier, sweeter, for ourselves. * 



'T look for the hour when the supreme 
Beauty, which ravished the souls of those 
Eastern men, and chiefly of those Hebrews, 
and through their lips spoke oracles to all 
time, shall speak in the West also. The 
Hebrew and Greek Scriptures contain im- 
mortal sentences that have been bread of 
life to millions. But they have no epical 
integrity ; are fragmentary ; are not shown 
in their order to the intellect. 

"T look for the new Teacher that shall 
follow so far those shining laws that he 
shall see them come full circle, and see their 
rounding, complete grace." 



MR. BRYAN'S GREATEST ORATION. 



ILLIAM JENNINGS BRYAN, 

/llf f twice the Democratic candidate for 
the presidency — 1896-1900 — was nomi- 
nated by the national convention of his 
party at Chicago in 1896 because of the en- 
thusiasm created by his famous "Cross of 
Gold" speech, which electrified the mighty 
assemblage and fairly set it wild. He was 
the only man who ever became the recog- 
nized and acknowledged leader of his party 
in a moment — leaping from comparative 
obscurity to fame at a bound. 

Among other things Mr. Bryan said : 

"The humblest citizen in all the land, 
when clad in the armor of a righteous cause, 
is stronger than all the hosts of error. I 
come to speak to you in defense of a cause 
as holy as the cause of liberty — the cause of 
humanity. * * * 

"Never before in the history of this coun- 
try has there been witnessed such a contest 
as that through which we have just passed. 
Never before in the history of American 
politics has a great issue been fought out 
as this issue has been, by the voters of a 
great party. On the fourth of March, 1895, 



a few Democrats, most of them members of 
Congress, issued an address to the Demo- 
crats of the Nation, asserting that the 
money question was the paramount issue ot 
the hour ; declaring that a majority of the 
Democratic party had the right to control 
the action of the party on this paramount 
issue ; and concluding with the request that 
the believers in the free coinage of silver 
in the Democratic party should organize, 
take charge of, and control the policy of 
the Democratic party. * * * * Then 
began the conflict. With a zeal approach- 
ing the zeal which inspired the crusaders' 
who followed Peter the Hermit, our silver 
Democrats went forth from victory unto 
victory until they are now assembled, not to 
discuss, not to debate, but to enter up the 
judgment already rendered by the plain 
people of this country. In this contest 
brother has been arrayed against brother, 
father against son. The warmest ties of 
love, acquaintance, and association have 
been disregarded ; old leaders have been 
cast aside when they have refused to give 
expression to the sentiments of those whom 



452 



AMERICAN ORATIONS. 



they would lead, and new leaders have 
sprung up to give direction to this cause of 
truth. Thus has the contest been waged, 
and we have assembled here under as bind- 
ing and solemn instructions as were ever 
imposed upon representatives of the peo- 
ple. =1= * * 

"They say that we are opposing national 
bank currency ; it is true. If you will read 
what Thomas Benton said, you will find he 
said that, in searching history, he could find 
but one parallel to Andrew Jackson; that 
was Cicero, who destroyed the conspiracy 
of Cataline and saved Rome. Benton said 
that Cicero only did for Rome what Jack- 
son did for us when he destroyed the bank 
conspiracy and saved America. We say in 
our platform that we believe that the right 
to coin and issue money is a function of 
Government. We believe it. We believe 
that it is a part of sovereignty, and can no 
more with safety be delegated to private 
individuals than we could afford to delegate 
to private individuals the power to make 
penal statutes or levy taxes. Mr. Jefferson, 
who was once regarded as good Democratic 
authority, seems to have differed in opinion 
from the gentleman who has addressed us 
on the part of the minority. Those who 
are opposed to this proposition tell us that 
the issue of paper monsy is a function of 
the bank, and that the Government ought 
to go out of the banking business. I stand 
with Jefferson rather than with them, and 
tell them, as he did, that the issue of money 
is a function of Government and that the 
banks ought to go out of the governing 
business. * * * 

"And now, my friends, let me come to the 
paramount issue. If they ask us why it is 
that we say more on the money question 
than we say upon the tariff question, I reply 
that, if protection has slain its thousands, 
the gold standard has slain its tens of thou- 
sands. If they ask us why we do not em- 
body in our platform all the things that we 



believe in, we reply that when we have 
restored the money of the Constitution all 
other necessary reforms will be possible ; 
but that until this is done there is no other 
reform that can be accomplished. * * * 

"We go forth confident that we shall win. 
Why ? Because upon the paramount issue 
of this campaign there is not a spot of 
ground upon which the enemy v/ill dare to 
challenge battle. If they teU us that the 
gold standard is a good thing, we shall 
point to their platform and tell them that 
their platform pledges the party to get rid 
of the gold standard and substitute bimetal- 
lism. If the gold standard is a good thing, 
why try to get rid of it ? I call your atten- 
tion to the fact that some of the very 
people who are in this convention to-day 
and who tell us that we ought to declare 
in favor of international bimetallism — 
thereby declaring that the gold standard is 
wrong and that the principle of bimetallism 
is better — these very people four months 
ago were open and avowed advocates of the 
gold standard, and were then telling us 
that we could not legislate two metals to- 
gether, even with the aid of all the world. 
If the gold standard is a good thing, we 
ought to declare in favor of its retention 
and not in favor of abandoning it; and if 
the gold standard is a bad thing, why 
should we wait until other nations are will- 
ing to help us to let go ? Here is the line 
of battle, and we care not upon which issue 
they force the fight ; we are prepared 
to meet them on either issue or on 
both. * * * * 

"You come to us and tell us that the great 
cities are in favor of the gold standard; 
we reply that the great cities rest upon our 
broad and fertile prairies. Burn down your 
cities and leave our farms, and your cities 
will spring up again as if by magic; but 
destroy our farms and the grass will grow 
in the streets of every city in the coun- 
try. 5[c ;J; ^ ^: 



CANADIAN ORATIONS, 



English-speaking Canadians as a rule are not clever speakers. Until recent years 
very little attention was paid to oratory in schools and colleges and such oratory as 
prevailed was decidedly "natural." Besides, Canadians are averse to display of feelings 
and passions and have little desire to be found posing. With greater responsibility 
in biusiness and national affairs, there is coming a considerable change, and some day 
oratory may be as much a vogue in this country as in the United States or Great Brit- 
ain. 

Nevertheless there have been and are many clever and polished speakers both among 
the English and French speaking population and there are many notable Canadian ora- 
tions. Evidence of this will be found in the following pages. 

SIR FRANCIS HINCKS ON IMPERIAL FEDERATION. 



N 1854 the Hon. Joseph Howe made a 
speech in the Nova Scotian Assembly 
advocating colonial representatives in the 
Imperial Parliament. His speech was 
afterwards republished in pamphlet form. 
Sir Francis Hincks undertook to reply to 
it. The following extract is from that re- 
ply: 

"I confess that I learn with very sin- 
cere regret, that a gentleman who advo- 
cated so strenuously the introductio-n of 
Responsible Government into the colonial 
system, as a means of affording to the peo- 
ple of the colonies all the constitutional 
freedom which they could desire, has ar- 
rived at the conclusion that some new 
change is required, and that British Amer- 
ica should 'aspire to consolidation as an 
integral portion of the realm of England, 
or assert her claims to a national exist- 
The first alternative, and the one 



ence. 



which is the special subject of Mr. Howe's 
speech to recommend, may, in my opinion, 
be very easily disposed of; .and had Mr. 



Howe attempted to show how his scheme 
could be worked out, he would probably 
have convinced his hearers, if not himself, 
of its impracticability. What is the nature 
of Mr. H'owe's claim on behalf of the col- 
onies, to representation in the Imperial 
Parliament? We are told that 'Scotland 
has fift3'-three members to represent her 
interests in the Imperial Parliament,' and 
that British America, 'with an equal popu- 
lation, has not one;' and again, that the 
State of Ohio 'has but a million and a half 
of people, yet she has not only her State 
Legislature and Government, as we have, 
but sends nineteen members to the Na- 
tional Congress.' Scotland is repre- 
sented in the Imperial Parliament ; they 
have to share in the burdens of tax- 
ation for the payment of the national 
debt, for the maintenance of the army 
and navy, and for the support of the 
Civil Government. I cannot for one mo- 
ment believe that Mr. Hov/e contemplates 
a complete legislative union between the 



453 




SIR FRANCIS HINCKS, a descendant of an old Cheshire famil}', was born at Cork 
in 1807. He was educated in Belfast, and about 1832 came to Canada. He took a prominent 
part in Canadian affairs before the Union, after the Union and after Confederation, being 
Minister of Finance from 1869 to 1873. He was a prominent confrere of Messrs. Baldwin 
and Lafontaine, and later was Premier of Canada in the Hincks-Morin administration under 
■ Lord Elgin. 



CANADIAN ORATIONS. 



455 



Mother Country and the British North 
American Colonies similar to that subsist- 
ing between the various parts of the United 
Kingdom; the colonies to share all the re- 
sponsibilities of their fellow-subjects here, 
and to have their affairs administered as 
formerly, in Downing street, their local 
Legislatures being extinguished, and, as a 
substitute for them, a representation in the 
Imperial Parliament of some fifty or sixty 
members. Neither can I believe that he 
intends seriously to claim on behalf of the 
colonies the right to be represented in the 
Imperial Parliament, and at the same time 
to be exempted from the burdens already 
referred to. The cry of the old colonies 
against the Mother Country, was 'taxation 
without representation, is tyranny.' If Mr. 



Howe's propositions were carried out, 
there would be a cry in the Mother Country 
against the colonies, — 'representation with- 
out taxation is tyranny.' As then, it ap- 
pears to me that representation in the Im- 
perial Parliament, without the accompani- 
ment of full participation in all the imperial 
liabilities, would be a most unreasonable 
demand; and as I am well assured that any 
proposition to obtain representation on 
such terms as I have indicated, would be 
rejected by the whole population of Brit- 
ish America, I am, I think, justified in my 
observation, that if Mr. Howe had attempt- 
ed to show how his scheme could be worked 
out, he would have convinced his hearers, 
and perhaps himself, of its impractica- 
bilitv." 



DR. RYERSON ON SOCIAL PROGRESS. 



HE following extract is from an ad- 
dress by the Rev. Dr. Ryerson, 
Chief Superintendent of Education for 
Upper Canada, delivered in the early part 
of i860: 

"What, it may be asked, does social 
progress imply? It implies the progress in 
the arts and sciences, the attainment of 
that knowledge which will tend to the ele- 
vation of an entire people. Social progress 
did not imply exemption from labor. Many 
persons think of ease and enjoyment, free- 
dom from labor, in connection with social 
progress, but this is a great mistake — no 
one should assume the exemption from 
labor in connection with it. Were the 
whole heavens dripping with dew, and the 
earth bringing forth more abundantly, so 
far from elevating man, apart from his own 
industrial exertion and activity, both bodily 
and mentally, so far from elevating him in 
the - scale of human kindness and moral 
well-being, it would degrade him, it would 
enervate him, and morally enfeeble him. 



Labor is stamped upon the vast universe 
of God; labor is necessarv in order to eain 
the prize; it is required and absolutely 
necessary throughout life, and in accord- 
ance as it would be bestowed v/e would 
advance and reap the rewards of our labor. 
Instead of seeing young men of our own 
day, who should be the hope of the coun- 
try, devising all means by which to escape 
their share of toil and labor, instead of 
seeing the most promising characters 
blasted, we would see them manfully bear- 
ing their part of honest toil and industry. 
It is a bad sign, in a country like this, to 
see our young men crowding certain pro- 
fessions; in the very course and order of 
things this will lead to very bad results. It 
is a bad sign when they shrink from labor, 
from honest toil and industry, and leave 
the country, to go elsewhere in search of 
that which they fondly hope to attain, and 
which they look forward to as the goal of 
all their ambition, to enjoy themselves in 
ease and contentment, to have freedom 



45^ 



CANADIAN ORATIONS. 



from labor. It does not imply the neces- 
sary accumulation of wealth. It is possible 
that this may come upon us, and lead to 
the indulgence of appetites and passions, 
which will curse rather than elevate our 
social as well as moral well-being in con- 
nection with the social fabric. Large 
wealth does not beget large views. We 
often see in the possession of the greatest 
wealth the smallest and most contemptible 
mind. It is incumbent upon- each individ- 
ual to cultivate his own mind, and to 
bestow culture upon these noble faculties 
of the mind with which God has endowed 
each one of us. Parents who toil from 
Monday morning to Saturday night, it be- 
ing their one, their chief aim, by the dint 
of frugality and economy, to lay up a com- 
petency for their children, so that they may 
throughout subsequent life enjoy them- 
selves in ease and comfort, have acted a 
very unwise, a very injudicious part. Care- 
ful and attentive observation will show that 
such has been the, case. It is only by the 
mental and moral cultivation of the young, 
by energetic and vigorous exercise, that we 
lay a sure foundation for the country's wel- 
fare and prosperity. They are the men 
whose characters are formed, while those 
who have to rely upon what their parents 
or others may leave them, without depend- 
ing in any measure upon their own indi- 
vidual exertions, prove it to be in too many 
instances a curse rather than a blessing to 
the country. There may be cases of per- 
sons following different professions and 
trades, that may reasonably have good 
cause to go from one place to another in 
search of employment, being driven by the 
force of circumstances, but that is a very 
different thing from that spirit of restless, 
worthless ambition, which is too often 
manifested in our own day. 

"As society consists of individuals, social 
progress implies the influence of individ- 



uals. We must aim at having each indi- 
vidual impressed, if possible, with the 
necessity of individual effort being put 
forth. Social progress implies, in the first 
place, the culture of the moral faculties, in 
order that we may do that which is right 
in the sight of God and man. It is indis- 
pensably necessary that the faculty of con- 
science should be maintained in good 
health in order that it may fulfil its import- 
ant office, for the direction of the whole. 
It is necessary, if a man would answer the 
great end of his being, that he pay particu- 
lar attention to that great faculty which 
Almighty God has placed within him, and 
that silent monitor that warns every man 
of his' danger, and checks him when he 
goes .astray, and to see to it well that he 
does not stifle the voice of conscience; that 
he can go with all the confidence it desires 
and inspires him, and manfully look up and 
face his fellow man. 

"The first element in individual progress 
is a culture of the moral faculties; the 
second the culture of the religious affec- 
tions. This is a very important element in 
social progress. Our existence cannot be 
separated from that divine being "in whom 
we live, and move and have our being." 
Other powers can be advanced when these 
faculties are cultivated." The reverend 
doctor here very eloquently referred to the 
heathen gods of antiquity, and showed the 
debasing influence they exerted upon the 
human mind. "Can it be otherwise, then, 
that he who walks with the divine being 
must be elevated? Then it will be that 
the character of man will be laid upon the 
true, the permanent basis. When there is 
a being wdio rules over all, can it be other- 
wise, then, that a salutary influence will 
be exercised over the entire man. There 
cannot be any prosperity, there cannot be 
any social progress, without the culture of 
the religious affections." 



CANADIAN ORATIONS. 



457 



JOSEPH HOWE ON ANGLO-SAXON RELATIONS. 



T a commercial convention held in 
I^s^ Detroit in July, 1865, and attended 
by representatives from the various Boards 
of Trade in the United States and British 
North America, that eloquent Nova Sco- 
tian, the Hon. Joseph Howe, delivered 
what is considered to be his finest oration. 
The opening paragraphs were as follows: 

"I never prayed for the gift of eloquence 
till now. Although I have passed through 
a long public life, I never was called upon 
to discuss a question so important in the 
presence of a body of representative men 
so large. I see before me merchants who 
think in millions, and whose daily trans- 
actions would sweep the harvest of a Greek 
island or a Russian principality. I see 
before m.e the men who whiten the Ocean 
and the Great Lakes with the sails of com- 
merce — who own the railroads, canals and 
telegraphs, which spread life and civiliza- 
tion through this great country, making 
the waste plains fertile and the wilderness 
to blossom as the^rose. I see before me 
men whose capital and financial skill form 
the bulwark and sustain the Government 
in every crisis of public affairs. On either 
hand I see the gentlemen who control and 
animate the Press, whose laborious vigils 
mould public sentiment — whose honorable 
ambition I can estimate from my early 
connection with the profession. On those 
benches, sir, or I mistake the intelligence 
to be read in their faces, sit those who will 
yet be governors and Ministers of State. 
I may well feel awed in the presence of 
an audience such as this; but the great 
question which brings us together is wor- 
thy of the audience, and challenges their 
grave consideration. 

"What is that question? Sir, we are 
here to determine how best we can draw 
together, in the bonds of peace, friendship 



and commercial prosperity, the three great 
branches of the British family. In the 
presence of this great theme all petty inter- 
ests should stand rebuked ; we are not deal- 
ing with the concerns of a City, a Province 
or a State, but with the future of our race 
in all time to come. Some reference has 
been made to 'Elevators' in your discus- 
sions. What we want is an elevator to lift 
our souls to the height of this argument. 
Why should not these three great branches 
of the family flourish, under different sys- 
tems of government, it may be, but forming 
.one great whole, proud of a common 
origin and of their advanced civilization? 
We are taught to reverence the mystery 
of the Trinity, and our salvation depends 
on our belief. The clover lifts its trefoil 
leaves to the evening dew, yet they draw 
their nourishment from a single stem. 
Why should we not? For nearly two 
thousand years we were one family. Our 
fathers fought side by side at Hastings, 
and heard the curfew toll. They fought in 
the same ranks for the sepulchre of our 
Saviour^in the earlier and later civil wars. 
We can wear our white and red roses with 
a blush, and glory in the principles those 
conflicts establish. Our common ancestors 
won the great Charter and the Bill of 
Rights — established free Parliaments, the 
Habeas Corpus, and Trial by Jury. Our 
jurisprudence comes down from Coke and 
Mansfield to Marshall and Story, rich in 
knowledge and experience, which no man 
can divide. From Chaucer to Shakespeare 
our literature is common inheritance. 
Tennyson and Longfellow write in one 
language, which is enriched by the genius 
developed on either side of the Atlantic. 
In the great navigators from Cotterel to 
Hudson, and in all their 'moving accidents 
by flood and field,' we have a common in- 




HON. JOS. HOWE, P. C, was made a member of the Dominion Cabinet in 1869, 
retirmg to become the Lieutenant-Governor of Nova Scotia in 1873. The latter position he 
held only one month— the greatest Nova Scotian of the century was then called to a higher 
life. From the time he first entered the Nova Scotia Legislature in 1836, until Confederation, 
he was a leader of the reform party in that Province, and to his efforts much of Nova 
Scotia's constitutional liberty and rapid progress was due. As a newspaper writer he 
wielded much influence, and to this he added great oratorical power. 



CANADIAN ORATIONS. 



459 



terest. On this side of the sea we have 
been largely reinforced by the Germans 
and French, but there is strength in both 
elements. The Germans gave to us the 
sovereigns who established our freedom, 
and they gave to you industry, intelligence 
and thrift; and the French, who have dis- 
tinguished themselves in arts and arms for 
centuries, now strengthen the Provinces 
which the fortune of war decided they 
could not control. But it may be said we 
have been divided by two wars. What 
then? The noble St. Lawrence is split in 
two places — by Goat Island and by Anti- 
costi — but it comes down to us from the 
same springs in the same mountain sides; 
its waters sweep together past the pictured 
rocks of Lake Superior, and encircle in 
their loving embrace the shores of Huron 
and Michigan. They are divided at Niagara 
Falls as we were at the Revolutionary War; 
but they come together again on the peace- 
ful bosom of Ontario. Again they are 
divided on their passage to the sea; but 



who thinks of divisions when they lift the 
keels of commerce, or when drawn up to 
heaven they form the rainbow or the cloud? 
It is true that in eighty-five years we have 
had two wars; but what then? Since the 
last we have had fifty years of peace, and 
there have been more people killed in a 
single campaign in the late civil war than 
there were in the two national wars be- 
tween this country and Great Britain. The 
people of the United States hope to draw 
together the two conflicting elements and 
make them one people. And in that task 
I wish them God speed! And in the same 
way I think we ought to rule out every- 
thing disagreeable in the recollection of 
our old wars, and unite together as one 
people for all time to come. I see around 
the door the Hags of the two countries. 
United as they are there, I would ever have 
them draped together, fold within fold, 
and let 'their varying tints unite and form 
in heaven's light one arch of peace.' " 



D'ARCY McGEE ON CONFEDERATION. 



§ONFEDERATION was the greatest 
event in the nineteenth century, so 
far as Canada is concerned. D'Arcy 
McGee was one of its strong supporters, 
as may be gathered from the following 
extract from a speech delivered at Cook- 
shire, Dec. 22d, 1864: 

'Tt seems to me that the man who can 
seriously maintain that union is not 
strength, that five or six comparatively 
small communities, owning a common alle- 
giance existing side by side on the same 
continent, in the presence of much larger 
communities owning another allegiance, 
would not be stronger and safer united 
than separate, that such a one puts himself 
out of the pale of all rational argument. 

'T will take an instance of the irration- 



ality of such an argument — the particular 
question, the great test question remaining 
between Canada and England : the question 
of defence. The future General Govern- 
ment has reserved to itself, saving the sov- 
ereignty of England, the control of our 
militia and military expenditure. Everv 
one can see that a war with England and 
the United States would be largely a naval 
war, and such a naval war as the ocean has 
never before seen — ,a war that would inter- 
est and stir the heart of England even 
beyond the pitch that made her staid mer- 
chants astonish Lloyd's in 1813, with 'three 
limes three cheers' when they heard that 
the 'Shannon' had fought and captured, 
and carried the 'Chesapeake' a prize into 
Halifax harbor. Suppose, then, in the 










HON. THOMAS D'ARCY McGEE, poet, orator, journalist, statesman, met an untimely 
death by the bullet of an assassin in Ottawa on the 6th of April, 1867. He was a strong 
advocate of Confederation, and Canada owes him a debt of gratitude for his labors in tha't 
connection. As an orator he was picturesquely eloquent, and, as he wished, sarcastic or 
witty. As a writer he occupies a prominent place among Irish litterateurs. 



CANADIAN ORATIONS. 



461 



event of an invasion of our soil, either in 
Upper Canada or Lower Canada — suppose 
that a flotilla was needed on the St. Law- 
rence, or on Lake Ontario; that England 
could spare us the gunboats, but not the 
skilled seamen; would it be no advantage 
to Canada to have the 50,000 Atlantic 
sailors of the Lower Provinces to call upon 
for their contingent to such a service? No 
doubt the empire could call on them now, 
but unless it restored the press gang it 
could not make them come. But if by 
our union we gave that valuable class of 
men the feeling of common country; if by 
the intercourse and commerce which must 
follow on our union, that feeling grew to 
the strength of indentity, we could have 
enough help of that description — drawn 
from what my colleague, Hon. Mr. Cartier, 
calls the maritime element — for the asking. 
The Imperial power, having conceded to 
all the North American colonies responsi- 
ble government, can only secure their co- 
operation, even in military measures, 
through those several separate govern- 
ments. Every one can see at a glance how 
much the Imperial power, and we our- 
selves, would gain in any emergency — if 
there were but two governments instead 
of six to be consulted — how much in 
promptitude, in decision, in time, in una- 
nimity, and in effectiveness. I need not 
enlarge, I am sure, on so self-evident a 
proposition as this; the man that will not 
see it, will not, that is all I need add on 
that score. 

'Tt. has, indeed, been asserted by the 
sceptics in our work that all our theories 
of a closer commercial intercourse are 
chimerical ; and yet, oddly enough, these 
are the same people who think a commer- 
cial union would 'secure all the benefits' of 
this chimerical prospect. Well, I will not 
meet assertion by assertion, but I will 
answer a conjecture by a fact. At the very 



time the member for Hochelaga was issu- 
ing his rather inconsistent declaration 
against a political union as among other 
reasons, wholly unprofitable in a commer- 
cial point of view — and in favor of a com- 
mercial union as all that was to be desired 
in itself, — at that moment, the first steam- 
ship, laden with breadstuffs, direct from 
Montreal to Newfoundland, was dropping 
down the St. Lawrence as a result of the 
partial and brief intercourse, brought about 
between the two communities, through our 
Conference at Quebec! That is a fact not 
very important in itself, perhaps, but very 
indicative of the possible usefulness of 
Union in a commercial point of view. I 
may mention another fact: While we were 
lying inCharlottetown harbour last Septem- 
ber, our attention was called to the arrival 
of a fine ocean going steamship — one of a 
regular line between Boston and Prince 
Edward Island. The Boston people find 
the trade of that rich little island worth 
cultivating, and they do it; they know 
where there is produce and where there 
is a market, and they establish a line 
of steamers to run there; yet I am 
sure they sell nothing to the islanders 
which we, at a third the distance, could not 
just as well supply them with from Quebec 
or Montreal. I repeat, however, I will not 
argue so plain a point as that with prov- 
inces like ours. Union is strength, is repu- 
tation, is credit, is security. I will just 
give one other illustration on this last head, 
and then I will drop the topic where it is. 
The security for peace which a large politi- 
cal organization has over a smaller one lies 
not only in its greater interests and dis- 
posable force, but in this other considera- 
tion, that the aggressor must risk or lose 
the benefit of much larger transactions, in 
attacking a larger than in assailing a 
smaller, state. If, for example, in our sys- 
tem of defence — in addition to all the Im- 



462 



CANADIAN ORATIONS. 



perial Government could do for us — if we 
could, by our joint representative action, 
be sure to shut up the River St. John upon 
the people of Maine — to exclude from the 
gulf the fishermen of Massachusetts — to 
withhold from the hearths and furnaces of 
New England the coal of Cape Breton — 
no man can question but that we would 
wield several additional means of defence, 
not now at the command of Canada. And 
so with the Lower Provinces; if their 
statesmen could wield our forces and our 
resources in addition to their own, does 
any sane man pretend that it would not be 
an immense gain to them? I may be told 
again the Imperial Government can do all 
this for us, if they will; I repeat that the 
Imperial Government alone can neither do 
any of these things so promptly, so fully, 
nor with so little trespass on our responsi- 
ble governments, as a united legislature 
could, through an united public force, with 
the aid of a Federal treasury. I really, 
gentlemen, ought to beg your pardon — and 
I do so — for dwelling so long on the truism 
that union is, in our case, strength: but 
as the first proposition to which we all 
agreed at the first conference, I thought I 
would give some explanation why we had 
unanimously arrived at that result. 

"Another objector opposes our project 
because Colonial Union is inconsistent 
with Imperial connection. Well, to that we 
might answer that we are quite willing to 
leave it to the statesmen of the Empire 
themselves to decide that point. If Eng- 
land does not find it so, I think we may 
safely .assume it is not so. And, in point 
of fact, the Imperial Parliament several 
years ago decided the question when they 
passed the New Zealand Constitutional 
Act, establishing six or seven local govern- 
ments, under one general government in 



that colony. Still another objector con- 
tends that the complement of Federalism 
is Republicanism, because most of the 
States with which we are familiar as Fed- 
eral States are also Republics. But this 
objection is by no means unanswerable. It 
is true Switzerland is a Republic in the 
sense of having no hereditary head, but the 
United Netherlands, when a Confederacy, 
were not a republic in that sense; it is true 
the United States and Mexico, and the 
Argentine Federations were all republican 
in basis and theory; but it is also true that 
the German Confederation is, and has 
always been, predominantly monarchical. 
There might be half as many varieties of 
federal governments as there are states of 
Provinces in the world; there may be 
aristocratic federations — like the Venetian, 
or Monarchical, like the German — or dem- 
ocratic, like the United States: The only 
definition which really covers the whole 
species of governments of this description 
is, the political union of states of dissimilar 
size and resources, to secure external pro- 
tection and internal tranquillity. These are 
the two main objects of all confederacies 
of states, on whatever principles governed, 
locally or unitedly; federalism is a political 
co-partnership, which may be, and has 
been formed by Monarchists, Aristocrats, 
and Democrats, Pagans and Christians, 
under the most various circumstances, and 
in all periods of human history. There may 
be almost as many varieties of confedera- 
tion as of companies, in private and social 
life; we say, with propriety, too, the com- 
pany at the hotel, or the company who own 
the hotel, but the organization of each is 
widely different. Our Federation will be 
British; it will be of the fourth class of 
Lord Coke's division, de inutni auxilli — 
for mutual aid." 



CANADIAN ORATIONS. 



463 



CONFEDERATION. 



I HE reputation of no Canadian was 
ever greater or is yet greater than that 
of the late Sir John A. Macdonald. As an 
orator, he has not the same claim to prom- 
inence. Nevertheless many of his speeches 
are masterpieces of logic and wit, of astute 
reasoning, and thorough comprehension. 
One of the greatest -of these, though per- 
haps the most sober, was that delivered by 
him in the Parliament of the Province of 
Canada on the occasion of the Confedera- 
tion Debates in 1865. According to the 
official report, "Attorney-Gjeneral Mac- 
donald" (he was not "Sir John" then) 
moved : 

"That an humble address be presented 
to Her Majesty, praying that she may be 
graciously pleased to cause a measure to 
be submitted to the Imperial Parliament, 
for the purpose of uniting the Colonies of 
Canada, Nova Scotia, New Brunswick, 
Newfoundland, and Prince Edward Island, 
in one government, with provisions based 
on certain resolutions, which were adopted 
at a Conference of Delegates from the said 
Colonies, held at the city of Quebec, on 
the loth of October, 1864." 

The closing portion of this famous ora- 
tion runs: 

"Let me again, before I sit down, im- 
press upon this House the necessity of 
meeting this question in a spirit of com- 
promise, with a disposition to judge the 
matter as a whole, to consider whether 
really it is for the benefit and advantage of 
the country to form a Confederation of all 
the Provinces; and if honorable gentlemen, 
whatever may have been their preconceived 
ideas as to the merits of the details of this 
measure, whatever may still be their 
opinions as to these details, if they really 



believe that the scheme is one by which 
the prosperity of the country will be in- 
creased, and its future progress secured, 
I ask them to yield their own views, and 
to deal with the scheme according to its 
merits as one great whole. One argument, 
but not a strong one, has been used against 
this Confederation, that it is an advance 
towards independence. Some are appre- 
hensive that the very fact of our forming 
this union will hasten the time when we 
shall be severed from the mother country. 
I have no apprehension of that kind. I 
believe it will have the contrary effect. I 
believe that as we grow stronger, that, as 
it is felt in England we have become a 
people, able from our union, our strength, 
our population, and the development of our 
resources, to take our position among the 
nations of the world, she will be less willing 
to part with us than she would be now, 
when we are broken up into a number of 
insignificant colonies, subject to attack 
piece-meal, without any concerted action or 
common organization of defence. I am 
strongly of opinion that year by year, as 
v/e grow in population and strength, Eng- 
land will more see the advantages of 
maintaining the alliance between British 
North America and herself. Does anyone 
imagine that, when our population instead 
of three and a half will be seven millions, 
as it will be ere many years pass, we would 
be one whit more willing than now to sever 
the connection with England? Would not 
those seven millions be just as anxious to ' 
maintain their allegiance to the Queen and 
their connection with the Mother Country, 
as we are now? Will the addition to our 
numbers of the people of the Lower Prov- 
inces, in any way lessen our desire to con- 




RT. HON. SIR JOHN ALEXANDER MACDONALD, K. C B., was, without doubt, 
the leading Canadian statesman of the nineteenth century. No other man held influential 
positions in the government of Canada for so long a period as Sir John, and no other man 
ever drev/ to himself the affections of the Canadian people as he did. He could make men 
weep or cheer or laugh, and while he ruled he was king. When nine years of age this 
young Scotch lad was brought by his father to Canada, and he received his earliest education 
at the Kingston Grammar School. From 1820 to 1891 he played the part of the Canadian 
boy, man, father and statesman. 



CANADIAN ORATIONS. 



465 



tinue our connection with the Mother 
Country? I beheve that the people of 
Canada East and West are truly loyal. 
But, if they can by possibility be exceeded 
in loyalty, it is by the inhabitants of the 
Maritime Provinces. Loyalty witii them 
is an overruling passion. In all parts of 
the Lower Provinces there is a rivalry 
between the opposing political parties as 
to which shall most strongly express and 
most effectively carry out the principle of 
loyalty to Her Majesty, and to the British 
Crown. When this union takes place, we 
will be at the outset no inconsiderable peo- 
ple. We find ourselves with a population 
approaching four millions of souls. Such 
a population in Europe would make a 
second, or at least, a third rate power. And 
with a rapidly increasing population — for 
I am satisfied that under this union our 
population will increase in a still greater 
ratio than ever before — with increased 
credit — with a higher position in the eyes 
of Europe — with the increased security we 
can ofifer to immigrants, who would natur- 
ally prefer to seek a new home in what is 
knov/n to them as a great country, than in 
any one little colony or another, — with all 
that I am satisfied that, great as has been 
our increase in the last twenty-five years 
since the union between Upper and Lower 
Canada, our future progress, during the 
next quarter of a century, will be vastly 
greater. And when, by means of this rapid 
increase, we become a nation of eight or 
nine millions of inhabitants, our alliance 
will be worthy of being sought by the great 
nations of the earth. I am proud to believe 
that our desire for a permanent alliance 
will be reciprocated in England. I know 
that there is a party in England — but it is 
inconsiderable in numbers, though strong 
in intellect and power — which speaks of 
the desirability of getting rid of the col- 
onies; but I beheve such is not the feeling 



of the statesmen and the people of Eng- 
land. I believe it will never be the delib- 
erately expressed determination of the 
Government of Great Britain. The colonies 
are now in a transition state. Gradually a 
different colonial system is being developed 
— and it will become, year by year, less a 
case of dependence on our part, and of 
overruling protection on the part of the 
Mother Country, and more a case of a 
healthy and cordial alliance. Instead of 
looking upon us as a merely independent 
colony, England will have in us a friendly 
nation — a subordinate but still a powerful 
people — to stand by her in North America 
in peace or in war. The people of Australia 
will be such another subordinate nation. 
And England will have this advantage, if 
her colonies progress under the new col- 
onial system, as I believe they will, that, 
though at war with all the rest of the 
world, she will be able to look to the sub- 
ordinate nations in alliance with her, and 
owning allegiance to the same Sovereign, 
who will assist in enabling her again to 
meet the whole world in arms, as she has 
done before. And if, in the great Napo- 
leonic war, with every port in Europe 
closed against her commerce, she was yet 
able to hold her own, how much more will 
that be the case when she has a colonial 
empire rapidly increasing in power, in 
wealth, in influence and in position. It is 
true that we stand in danger, as we have 
stood in danger again and again in Canada, 
of being plunged into war and suffering all 
its dreadful consequences,- as the result of 
causes over which we have no control, by 
reason of their connection. This, however, 
did not intimidate us. At the very men- 
tion of the prospect of a war some time 
ago, how were the feelings of the people 
aroused from one extremity of British 
America to the other, and preparations 
made for meeting its worst consequences. 



466 



CANADIAN ORATIONS. 



Although the people of this country are 
fully aware of the horrors of war — should 
a war arise, unfortunately, between the 
United States and England, and we will 
pray it never may — they are still ready to 
encounter air perils of that kind, for the 
sake of the connection with England. So 
long- as that alliance is maintained, we 
enjoy, under her protection, the privileges 
of constitutional liberty according to the 
British system. We will enjoy here that 
Vv^hich is the great test of constitutional 
freedom — we will have the rights of the 
minority respected. In all countries the 
rights of the majority take care of them- 
selves, but it is only in countries hke Eng- 
land, enjoying constitutional liberty, and 
safe from the tyranny of a single despot or 
of an unbridled democracy, that the rights 
of the minority are regarded. So long, too, 
as we form a portion of the British Empire, 
we shall have the example of her free in- 
stitutions, of the high standard of the 
character of her statesmen and public men, 
of the purity of her legislation, and the 
upright administration of her laws. 

"In this younger country one great 
advantage of our connection with Great 
Britain will be, that under her auspices, 
inspired by her example, a portion of her 
empire, our public men will be actuated by 
principles similar to those which actuate 
the statesmen at home. These, although 
not material, physical benefits, of which 
you can make an arithmetical calculation, 
are of such overwhelming advantage to 
our future interests and standing as a 
nation that to obtain them is well worthy 
of any sacrifices we may be called upon to 
make, and the people of this country are 
ready to make them. We should feel, also, 
sincerely grateful to beneficent Providence 
that we have had the opportunity vouch- 
safed us of calmly considering this great 
constitutional change, this peaceful revo- 



lution — that we have not been hurried into 
it, like the United States, by the exigencies 
of war — that we have not had a violent 
revolutionary period forced on us, as in 
other nations, by hostile action from with- 
out, or by domestic dissensions from with- 
in. Here we are in peace and prosperity, 
under the fostering government of Great 
Britain — a dependent people, with a gov- 
ernment having only a limited and dele- 
gated authority, and yet allowed, without 
restriction, and without jealousy on the 
part of the Mother Country, to legislate for 
ourselves, and peacefully and deliberately 
consider and determine the future of Can- 
ada and of British North America. It is 
our happiness to know the expression of 
the will of our Gracious Sovereign, through 
Her Ministers, that we have her full sanc- 
tion for our deliberations, that Her only 
solicitude is that we shall adopt a system 
which shall be really for our advantage, 
and that she promises to sanction whatever 
conclusion after full deliberation we may 
arrive at as the best mode of securing the 
well-being — the present and future pros- 
perity of British America. It is our privi- 
lege and happiness to be in such a position, 
and we cannot be too grateful for the bless- 
ings thus conferred upon us. I must apolo- 
gize for having detained you so long — for 
having gone perhaps too much into tedious 
details with reference to the questions bear- 
ing on the Constitution now submitted to 
this House. 

'Tn conclusion I would again implore 
the House not to let this opportunity to 
pass. It is an opportunity that may never 
recur. At the risk of repeating myself, T 
would say, it was only by a happy con- 
currence of circumstances, that we were 
enabled to bring this great question to its 
present position. If we do not take advant- 
age of the time, if we show ourselves un- 
equal to the occasion, it may never return, 



CANADIAN ORATIONS. 



467 



and we shall hereafter bitterly and unavail- 
ingly regret having failed to embrace the 
happy opportunity now offered of found- 



ing a great nation under the fostering care 
of Great Britain, and our Sovereign Lady, 
Oueen Victoria." 



GEORGE BROWN ON CONFEDERATION. 



N the same debate of 1865, the Hon. 
George Brown, the leading Upper 
Canada Liberal statesman, made a strong 
plea for Confederation. That he was a 
great orator is proven by the following 
extract: 

"Sir, I venture to assert that no scheme 
of equal magnitude, ever placed before the 
world, was received with higher eulogiums, 
with more universal approbation, than the 
measure we have now the honor of sub- 
mitting for the acceptance of the Canadian 
Parliament. And no higher eulogy could, 
I think, be pronounced than that I heard 
a few weeks ago from the lips of one of 
the foremost of British statesmen, that the 
system of government we proposed seemed 
to him a happy compound of the best fea- 
tures of the British and American Consti- 
tutions. And well7Mr. Speaker, might our 
present attitude in Canada arrest the earn- 
est attention of other countries. Here is 
a people composed of two distinct races, 
speaking dififerent languages, with religious 
and social and municipal and educational 
institutions totally different; with sectional 
hostilities of such a character as to render 
government for many years well-nigh im- 
possible; with a Constitution so unjust in 
the view of one section as to justify any 
resort to enforce a remedy. And yet, sir, 
here we sit, patiently and temperately dis- 
cussing how these great evils and hostilities 
may justly and amicably be swept away 
forever. We are endeavoring to adjust 
harmoniously greater difficulties than have 
plunged other countries into all the hor- 
rors of civil war. We are striving to do 
peacefully and satisfactorily what Holland 



and Belgium, after years of strife, were 
unable to accomplish. We are seeking by 
calm discussion to settle questions that 
Austria and Hungary, that Denmark and 
Germany, that Russia and Poland could 
only crush by the iron heel of armed force. 
We are seeking to do without foreign in- 
tervention that which deluged in blood the 
sunny plains of Italy. We are striving to 
settle forever issues hardly less momentous 
than those that have rent the neighboring 
republic and now are exposing it to all the 
horrors of civil war. Have we not then, 
Mr. Speaker, great cause of thankfulness 
that we have found a better way for the 
solution of our troubles than that which 
has entailed on other countries such de- 
plorable results? And should not every 
one of us endeavor to rise to the magnitude 
of the occasion, and earnestly seek to deal 
with this question to the end in the same 
candid and conciliatory spirit in which, so 
far, it has been discussed? The scene pre- 
sented by this chamber at this moment, 
I venture to affirm, has few parallels in 
history. One hundred years have passed 
away since these provinces became by con- 
quest part of the British Empire. I speak 
in no boastful spirit — I desire not for a 
moment to excite a painful thought — what 
was then the fortune of war of the brave 
French nation, might have been ours on 
that well-fought field. I recall those olden 
times merely to remark the fact that here 
sit to-day the descendants of the victors 
and the vanquished in the fight of 1759, 
with all the differences of language, re- 
ligion, civil law, and social habit, nearly as 
distinctly marked as they were a century 



468 



CANADIAN ORATIONS. 



ago. Here we sit to-day seeking amicably 
to find a remedy for constitutional evils 
and injustice complained of — by the van- 
quished? No, sir, — but complained of by 
the conquerors! Here sit the representa- 
tives of the British population, discussing 
in the French tongue whether we shall 
have it. One hundred years have passed 
away since the conquest of Quebec, and 
here sit the children of the victor and the 
vanquished, ,all avowing hearty attachment 
to the British Crown — all earnestly deliber- 
ating how we shall best extend the bless- 
ings of British institutions — how a great 
people may be established on this continent 
in close and hearty connection with Great 
Britain. Where, sir, in the page of history, 
shall we find a parallel to this? Will it not 
stand as an imperishable monument to the 
generosity of British rule? And it is not 
in Canada alone that this scene is being 
witnessed. Four other colonies are at this 
moment occupied as we are — declaring 
their hearty love for the parent State, and 
deliberating with us how they may best 
discharge the great duty entrusted to their 
hands, and give their aid in developing the 
teeming resources of these vast posses- 
sions. 

"And, well, Mr. Speaker, may the work 
we have unitedly proposed rouse the am- 
bition and energy of every true man in 
British America. Look, sir, at the map of 
the continent of America, and mark that 
island (Newfoundland) commanding the 
mouth of the noble river that almost cuts 
our continent in twain. Well, sir, that 
island is equal in extent to the kingdom 
of Portugal. Cross the straits to the main- 
land, and you touch the hospitable shores 
of Nova Scotia, ,a country as large as the 
kingdom of Greece. Then mark the sister 
province of New Brunswick — equal in ex- 
tent to Denmark and Switzerland com- 
bined. Pass up the river St. Lawrence to 



Lower Canada — a country as large as 
France. Pass on to Upper Canada— twenty 
thousand square miles larger than Great 
Britain and Ireland put together. Cross 
over the continent to the shores of the 
Pacific, and you are in British Columbia, 
the land of golden promise — equal in ex- 
tent to the Austrian Empire. I speak not 
now of the vast Indian Territories that lie 
between— greater in extent than the whole 
soil of Russia — and that will, ere long, I 
trust, be opened up to civilization under 
the auspices of the British American Con- 
federation. Well, sir, the bold scheme in 
your hands is nothing less than to gather 
all these countries into one — to organize 
them all under one government, with the 
protection of the British flag, and in hearti- 
est sympathy and affection with our fel- 
low-subjects in the land that gave us birth. 
Our scheme is to establish a government 
that will seek to turn the tide of European 
emigration into this northern half of the 
American continent — that will strive to de- 
velop its great natural resources— and that 
will endeavor to maintain liberty, and jus- 
tice, and Christianity throughout the land. 
"Sir, the whole great ends of this Con- 
federation may not be realized in the life- 
time of many who now hear me. We im- 
agine not that such a structure can be built 
in a month or in a year. What we propose 
now is but to lay the foundations of this 
structure — to set in motion the govern- 
ment machinery that will one day, we trust, 
extend from the Atlantic to the Pacific. 
And we take special credit to ourselves that 
the system we have devised, while admir- 
ably adapted to our present situation, is 
capable of gradual and efficient expansion 
in future years to meet all the great pur- 
poses contemplated by our scheme. But 
if the honorable gentleman will only recall 
to mind that when the United States 
seceded from the Mother Country, and for 



CANADIAN ORATIONS. 



469 



many years afterwards their population 
was not nearly equal to ours at this mo- 
ment; that their internal improvements did 
not then approach to what we have already 
attained; and that their trade and com- 
merce was not then a third of what ours 
has already reached; I think he will see 
that the fulfillment of our hopes may not 
be so very remote as at first sight might 
be imagined. And he will be strengthened 
in that conviction if he remembers that 
what we propose to do is to be done with 
the cordial sympathy and assistance of that 



great Power of which it is our happiness 
to form a part. Such, Mr. Speaker, are the 
objects of attainment to which the British 
American Conference pledged itself in 
October. And said I not rightly that such 
a scheme is well fitted to fire the ambition 
and rouse the energies of every member 
of this House? Does it not lift us above 
the petty politics of the past, and present 
to us higher purposes and great interests 
that may well call forth all the intellectual 
ability and all the energy and enterprise to 
be found amons: us?" 



THE ELOQUENCE OF EDWARD BLAKE. 



S an example of a peroration, that of 
\is\ Edward Blake's speech in connection 
with the Pacific scandal may be quoted. 
Sir John Macdonald made a five-hours' 
speech on November 3d, 1873, defending 
the course of his Government in connection 
v/ith the granting of a charter to the Can- 
adian Pacific Railway Co., and ending with 
his famous appeal: "I throw myself upon 
this House; I throw myself upon this 
country; I throw myself upon posterity; 
and I believe, and I know that, notwith- 
standing the many failings of my life, I 
shall have the voice of this country, this 
House, rallying around me." Next day 
Mr. Blake made a lengthy speech in reply 
and shortly afterwards Sir John Macdon- 
ald resigned and Mr. Mackenzie was 
called upon to form a government. Mr. 
Blake's closing words were as follows: 

'T believe that this night or to-morrow 
night will see the end of twenty years of 
corruption. This night or to-morrow night 
will see the dawn of a better and a brighter 
day in the administration of our public 
alifairs. I am not concerned to answer — 
I disdain to answer the foul and reckless 
charges which the first Minister hurled 
against individual members on this side. 



and against this side as a whole. My best 
answer is by my abstinence from such 
charges against gentlemen opposite. I 
have endeavored, so far as I could, to con- 
fine myself to fair statements of the facts, 
and to fair deductions from those facts. I 
have expressed plainly^ as it was my bound- 
en duty to do on this important occasion, 
my views of the political situation. I have 
said, and I repeat, that the battle is one 
between purity and corruption. I have 
never claimed for myself or my friends that 
we are the embodiment of absolute purity ; 
nor have I asserted that all the gentlemen 
who sit opposite, and who, under a mis- 
taken notion of fidelity to a party leader, 
or of fealty to a lost cause, are about to 
vote against us — are corrupt. Far from it; 
I cannot be so ungenerous; I cannot be so 
unjust. But to them I repeat my solemn 
warning, that they will be strictly judged, 
and that loyalty to a party, or to a man, will 
not be held to justify treason to their coun- 
try. And for us, sir, who are confessing 
opposite views to-night, I desire that we 
shall be judged by them for all time to 
come — that in whatever situation my hon- 
orable friends around me may be placed, 
the position we have taken, the attitude 




HON. EDWARD BLAKE, representative of an Irish constituency in the British House 
of Commons, and a former leader of the Canadian Liberal party, is an orator of the school of 
Edmund Burke. His eloquence is too ponderous to be popular. As a statesman and 
political leader he was respected, admired and loved. He is a son of the late William Hume 
Blake, who was chancellor of Upper Canada at one time, and was born at Carrington, Ont., 
in 1833. His ability is plainly seen in the many able speeches which he has made and in his 
many successes as a counsel in the highest courts of the country and the Empire. 



CANADIAN ORATIONS. 



471 



we have assumed, the ground upon which 
we stand shall be held by us, and if not by 
us, then against us, as the only true and 
solid ground. We are here to set up once 
again the standard of public virtue. We 
are here to restore once again the fair fame 
of the country which has been tarnished; 
we are here to brighten, if we may, that 
fame; we are here to purge this country 
of the great scandal and calamity inflicted 
on it by those entrusted with the conduct 
of its afifairs. I agree with the honorable 
gentleman, that after all our efforts we 
will still be left in a position far inferior 
in the eyes of the world to that which we 
held before these transactions happened. 
We cannot, even by the act of justice which 
we propose to perform, we cannot, even by 
the solemn judgment which we are 
about to render; we cannot, even by 
the purgations and lustrations which we 
are about to accomplish, altogether wipe 
away in other eyes, and amongst other 
people, the stain, the shame, and the dis- 
grace which has fallen upon the land. I 
have no feelings of joy, and congratulation 
at this result. I deeply deplore the truth 
of these facts; but I am one of those who 
believe that what is to be deplored is the 
existence of the facts, and not their discov- 
ery. I do not understand that Spartan 
virtue which deems a theft no crime so long 
as it is concealed. I do not understand 
that morality which will permit a crime un- 



seen, but is deeply shocked and alarmed 
for the credit of the country lest the crime 
should become known. I do not under- 
stand the morality of the Minister of Cus- 
toms, who told us that it was greatly to be 
regretted, while these things must and 
would be done, that they should be made 
public. Sir, you will not heal the festering 
sore by healing the skin above it. You 
must lance it, lay it open, cleanse it, and 
purify it, before you can get good, healthy 
flesh to grow again, and effect a thorough 
cure. Painful though the task may be, 
arduous though it is, I believe it is about 
to be accomplished. The night is far spent, 
the day is at hand. When this vote is ren- 
dered, let it be rendered by every man 
amongst us with reference to those princi- 
ples of public virtues which he would apply 
in his own transactions as the standard 
between himself and his neighbor. Let us 
not be carried away by the abominable 
doctrine that there is a distinction between 
the standards of public and private virtue ; 
let us not agree to the notion that that may 
be done in secret which it is a shame to 
state in public; let us lay down the rule 
that our transactions shall be open and 
candid, and such as may bear the light of 
day; and as the shame exists, as it has 
been discovered, as it has been conclusively 
established, as it has been confessed, let 
us now adjudge to its perpetrators their 
just reward." 



TWO SPEECHES BY THE HON. ALEXANDER MACKENZIE. 



©N October 29th, 1875, when Premier 
of Canada, the Hon. Alexander Mac- 
kenzie was banqueted at St. John, N. B., 
when Hon. J. G. Blaine, ex-Speaker of the 
House of Representatives of the United 
States, was also a guest. Part of Mr. 
Mackenzie's speech was as follows : 

"And there is much in these Maritime 



Provinces to command the attention and 
admiration of the people of Ontario. Our 
boast is that Canada now occupies the 
fourth place amongst the maritime coun- 
tries of the world, and I give my friend, 
Mr. Blaine, notice that, unless his country- 
men are very active, in ten years Canada 
will occupy the third or perhaps the second 




THE HON. ALEXANDER MACKENZIE will always be remembered as the head 
of the first Liberal Administration after Confederation. He was called upon to take the 
reins of office when Sir John Macdonald was defeated (1873). Associated with him were 
such men as Dorion, Blake, Letellier, Cartwright and Scott. As a man of fifty he returned 
to his village home premier of a great colony and fresh from being the guest of Her 
Majesty at Windsor. Mr. Mackenzie has left behind him an imperishable monument in his 
reputation for honesty and straightforwardness. 



CANADIAN ORATIONS. 



473 



place as it maritime country. The naval 
power of Canada is to a large extent, or 
almost entirely, I might say, in these Prov- 
inces by the sea, and the Government is 
bound to do all it can to .advance the 
maritime interests of Canada. No nation 
can hope to prosper that neglects the inter- 
ests of its shipping and of its commerce. 
The Mother country, with her colonies 
scattered all over the world, with her ships 
upon every sea, derives much of her pres- 
tige and power from those ofifshoots of her 
strength, which grow out of her, not to the 
detriment of her vigor, but to its increase. 
And it will be a dark day indeed for Great 
Britain when she allows her commerce or 
her colonies to fall into neglect. It will 
fare with her then as it did with ancient 
Rome. So long as she maintained her 
colonies, and made herself povv^erful by 
mainraining powerful dependencies, she 
remained the Mistress of the World; but 
when her legions were suffered to retire 
from Britain and from Gaul and from the 
outlying posts of her Empire, the blood 
which, circulating in her limbs, kept them 
vigorous, was forced back to the heart, 
and the great city itself became a prey to 
the Northern barbarians, while the Empire 
was rent in pieces. I was glad, not long 
since, to hear of Sir Stafford Northcote, 
in a recent speech in England, giving ex- 
pression to his own views and those of the 
government of which he is a member, with 
regard to the British Colonies. He said 
that the present Government was more 
favorable to the Colonies than former ones 
had been. This is gratfying. Not that 
we in Canada ask anything from anybody. 
As I said to them publicly in England, and 
have said many times here, we are prepared 
to do our share, not only in these matters 
which concern our local affairs chiefly, but 
also in regard to Imperial interests. But 
still, although we have these feelings, and 



give expression to them, we desire English 
statesmen to have enlightened views in 
regard to our position towards the Mother 
Country, and to know the views and feel- 
ings which actuate a free people. I am 
aware that some namby-pamby politicians 
in the Mother Country look upon Canada 
and the rest of the British Colonies as a 
stingy man might look upon his poor rela- 
tions. But we are not poor relations. I 
am glad that it is beginning to be well 
understood, both in Great Britain and else- 
where, what our real position is on this 
continent. A morning paper to-day said 
that it was an interesting coincidence that 
Mr. MacKenzie and Mr. Blaine should 
meet as guests at the banquet to-night, the 
one the head of a ministry which initiated 
negotiations for a Treaty of Reciprocity, 
the other the head of a party which laid the 
Treaty on the shelf. It was suggested that 
we might meet and compare notes, and that 
perhaps we might be able to settle our 
account. Well, for my part, I may say to 
Mr. Blaine, 'T am willing to trade, but as 
it requires two to make a bargain, if you 
are not willing, I must go somewhere 
else." The extension of commerce be- 
tween nations, especially countries such as 
Canada and the United States, I believe 
would be the means of conferring the great- 
est possible benefits on both. No doubt 
Mr. Blaine thinks as I do with regard to 
the .advantages of an extended commerce, 
although we may differ with regard to the 
terms on which such commerce should be 
carried on. I hope, however, that before 
long we shall have such an extended recip- 
rocal trade between Canada and the United 
States as will be satisfactory and materially 
advantageous to both." 

About the same time, Mr. Mackenzie 
was banqueted at Rimouski, where he 
spoke, in part, as follows: 

"I regret very much that I am not able 



474 



CANADIAN ORATIONS. 



to respond in your own language, and that 
I can only say a few words, in appreciation 
of what has been so kindly expressed in 
your address in my own tongue. I am 
exceedingly obliged for the warmth of the 
welcome given by the Mayor, the member 
for the county, and citizens generally of 
Rimouski, of which this address and this 
reception are the evidence. I do not at 
all forget that in addressing a French Can- 
adian audience in their own Province, I 
may say for the first time, I am speaking 
to those referred to in this address, as be- 
ing- the descendants of the first settlers in 
Canada — the first explorers indeed of the 
country which we are privileged now to 
inhabit in common. I have myself traveled 
over the route, traversed by Pere Mar- 
quette and his noble companions, many of 
the Jesuit Fathers, who sought out the 
shores of Lake Superior and discovered 
the sources of the Mississippi long before 
any English foot had traversed these wilds, 
and I cordially acknowledg^e that we owe 
much . to the hardy and patriotic French 
adventurers of Canada's early days, from 
Jacques Cartier down to the descendants 
of that highly-distinguished traveler and 
discoverer. And it has always been a 
source of great pleasure and pride to my- 
self to be associated in the Legislature with 
my French-Canadian fellow-countrymen, 
who have come from such noble stock,- and 
to enjoy their confidence and friendship in 
our political and personal relationships. It 
so happens that at the present moment I 
am the political leader of the French Lib- 
erals and of the English Liberals. There 
was a time when I was simply a follower, 



among many, of a French leader — and that 
time may come again, when, as you know, 
Dr. Fiset, I shall be as willing to follow as 
I am now obliged to lead. For we are all 
obliged in Canada, from motives of patriot- 
ism, and, I may say, from motives of good 
will and a desire to do our part in our 
several stations, to unite heartily together 
to secure the prosperity, the commercial 
and political advancement, the liberal and 
independent thought and action of our 
common country. I am particularly happy 
in having the opportunity afforded me of 
speaking to the people of the County of 
Rimouski, because I do not forget that 
long ago, when a great English leader of 
the Liberal party was unable at the gen- 
eral election to obtain a seat for a constit- 
uency in his own Province, the County of 
Rimouski generously gave him a seat in 
the Province of Quebec. It is not per- 
haps every county in this Province which 
would have been so magnanimous, even 
for Robert Baldwin; but I am glad, for 
the credit of my own Province, to be able 
to add that Mr. Baldwin's Province recip- 
rocated by giving your French-Canadian 
Liberal leader, Mr. Lafontaine, the seat for 
the County of York. I dare say my friend 
Dr. Fiset would not like to be compelled 
now to go to the County of York for a 
constituency, and he would not think it 
convenient for me to come to Rimouski — 
though I may come here to ask you to 
make me your representative, for all that. 
And in case I may find it necessary to fol- 
low the course of Mr. Baldwin, I avail my- 
self of the present favorable opportunity 
of soliciting your votes and your influence." 



ST. JEAN BAPTISTE SOCIETY. 



ORD DUFFERIN was one of the 
^ most eloquent Governors-General who 
have been connected with Canada. The 
following is a noteworthy address by him, 



delivered in reply to an address in the 
Montreal Music Hall, on the 12th of 
September, 1878: 

"Mr. President and Gentlemen:- — It is 




THE EARL OF D'UFFERIN was, without doubt, the most notable Governor-General 
who ever represented British sovereignty in Canada. He had more personal friends and 
achieved a wide popularity. He was born in Italy, in 1826, his mother being a Sheridan, a 
granddaughter of the distinguished orator and dramatist. So by right of the two lines of 
descent. Lord Dufiferin was born to greatness and to oratory. He was Governor-General 
of Canada from June, 1872, to October, 1878. 



476 



C A N A D I A N' O R A 1' I O N S. 



needless for nie to assure you with what 
pleasure I again find ni}'seli taking part in 
those refined and artistic relations with 
which the French race delight to solace 
their leisure, .and surrounded by the loyal 
and patriotic members of the St. Jean 
Baptiste Society. It has been one of the 
happy peculiarities of your nationality that 
you have ever known how to enliven the 
serious occupations of life by a graceful 
gaiety, and to introduce a brilliancy of 
color amid the sombre shadows of our dull 
U'ork-a-day world. This happy tempera- 
ment not only sheds its benign influence 
over your social existence, but it has in- 
vested everything you have touched— your 
architecture, your literature, your history — 
with a most attractive individuality. Bril- 
liancy, picttirescjueness, dramatic force, a 
chivalrous inspiration — these are the char- 
acteristics which have throwai over the 
early .annals of Canada a glamour of 
romance, which attaches to the history of 
no other portion of the continent. The 
genius of Washington Irving and of Haw- 
thorne have indeed endeavored to do for 
New England and -its neighborhood what 
Sir Walter Scott accomplished for his own 
land; but though the magic of their style 
may for the instant delude the fancy the 
moment you close the page you awake to 
the unreality of what they have depicted. 
Various influences in fact have induced our 
neighbors across the line to break com- 
pletely with their ante-revolutionary past, 
and to suffer oblivion to envelop the 
musty, arid, .and ascetic records of their 
old colonial days. But with you the case 
has been different. Your past has refused 
to die, or to efface itself. Its vitality was 
too exuberant, too rich with splendid 
achievements, too resonant, too brilliant, 
too replete with the daring and gallantry 
of stately seigneurs — the creation of able 
statesmen — the martyrdoms of holy men 



■and women, to be smothered by the dust 
of ages, or overwhelmed by the uproar of 
subsequent events. 

"Though the advent of your English 
fellow-citizens, and the political changes 
which accompanied their establishment 
amongst you, might have been expected 
to have built up a partition wall between 
the past and present of Canada, the solu- 
tion of historical continuity has been really 
much less marked in this country than in 
the United States; and far from wishing 
to erect the change of regime into an Era, 
the English Government and the English 
people, with an instinct as honorable to 
themselves as to you, have preferred to 
adopt your past, on condition that you will 
share their future ; .and there is no English- 
Canadian of to-day who does not take as 
great a pride in the material achievements 
of the French captains of the seventeenth 
and eighteenth centuries, in the heroic and 
adventurous explorations of the Jesuit 
Fathers, in the enterprise which established 
Quebec and Montreal, in the semi-feudal 
splendors of your early Viceroys, as any 
Frenchman amongst you all. Nay, in the 
lovely poem of 'Evangeline,' in the thrilling 
tales of Fenimbre Cooper, in the pictur- 
esque dramatic and clever pages of Park- 
man, we see that it is to Canada the poet, 
the novelist and the historian even of the 
United States are obliged to come for the 
subject matter of their tales, and an inter- 
esting theme. Speaking for myself, I can 
truly say that whenever I pace the frowning 
platform of your Citadel, or make the cir- 
cuit of your ramparts, or wander through 
your gabled streets, I instinctively regard 
myself as much the direct successor of 
those brave and courtly Viceroys who pre- 
sided over your early destiny as I am the 
successor of Lord Lisgar, Lord Monck or 
Lord Elgin. How then can I fail to appre- 
ciate the compliment you have paid me in 



CANADIAN ORATIONS. 



477 



linking my name in so flattering .a manner 
as you have done to-day with the memories 
of those illustrous men? or what more de- 
hghtful assurance could I desire than your 
affections will hereafter preserve a place 
for me on that honorable register? It is 
true my claims to such an honor are far 
weaker, far less imperative than theirs. 
They led you to battle and to victory, they 
shared your privations, and on a thousand 
occasions — in seasons of plague and 
famine, of siege and nivasion — risked their 
lives on yoru" behalf. All that I have ever 
been able to do for you has been to give 
you such proofs of my sympathy with your 
aspirations — of my respect for your char- 



acter and genius — of my faith in your 
future — as circumstances permitted. But, 
believe me, in cpiitting this country, and in 
counting up the various respects in which 
my gratitude is due to the Canadian people, 
the courtesy, the kindness, the hospitality 
I have received at the hands of my French- 
speaking fellow-subjects will never be for- 
gotten ; and proud am I to think that under 
my auspices and at my humble suggestion 
the ramparts of Quebec are destined to 
rise in renovated splendor, and to remain 
an enduring memorial of the loving solici- 
tude with which I have ever regarded' this, 
the most beautiful city upon the American 
continent, and its kindlv inhabitants." 



LORD LORNE ON DE SALABERRY. 



^(l) ORD LORNE was another eloquent 
^ Governor-General. A fine statue of 
Colonel de Salaberry, by Mr. Herbert of 
Montreal, was, in 1880, unveiled at Cham- 
bly. A large concourse of people and rep- 
resentative men from all parts of the Prov- 
ince of Quebec were present, and after elo- 
quent speeches from Colonel Harwood and 
other gentlemen, His Excellency said: 

"Accept my thanks for your address, 
which records your patriotic desire to 
honor in a befitting manner the memory 
of a patriot. I rejoice to be able to take 
part with you in this commemoration of a 
gallant soldier. We are here to unveil a 
monument dedicated to a man who worthily 
represented the loyal spirit of his age. 
That spirit exists to the full to-day. Should 
need arise, there are many among the Can- 
adian nation who would emulate his exam- 
ple and endeavor to rival his achievements. 
This statue records a character typical of 
our countrymen. Content with little for 
himself, content only with greatness for 
his country — such was the character of De 
Salaberrv; sucli is the character of the 



Canadian to-day. At Chambly, in the prov- 
ince where he had the good fortune to have 
the occasion to manifest that valor which 
was the proud tradition of his race, we 
place his statue. It is raised in no spirit of 
idle boasting, but with the hope that the 
virtues shown of old may, unforgotten, 
light and guide future generations. These 
virtues were conspicuous in this distin- 
guished man, w^hose military talents en- 
abled him to perform his duty with signal 
advantage to our arms. In rearing this 
monument to him, let us not forget to pay 
a passing tribute to his brothers. They, 
with him. in the hour of danger, took to 
the profession of arms, we may almost say 
as a part of their nature. Three of them 
perished in upholding the honor of that 
ilag which is to-day our symbol of unitv 
and freedom. In this fair region, which 
was his home, a contrast between our 
limes and those in which he lived comes 
forcibly before us. Where are now the 
wide tracts of fertile fields and a countrv 
traversed by railways or to be reached by 
the steamers on our rivers, De Salaberry 




THE MARQUIS OF LORNE (now Duke of Argyle) was Governor-General of 
Canada from November, 1878, to August, 1883. He filled the office most acceptably. His 
wife was Her Royal Highness, the Princess Louise. The Marquis is a good speaker and 
a clever writer. He is the author of several books — fiction, poetry and description, and one 
of his volumes deals mainly with Canadian subjects. The Princess Louise, no less than 
her distinguished husband, is famed for her art, which in her case exhibits itself in etchings 
and sculpture. 



CANADIAN ORATIONS. 



479 



and his voltigeurs, when they made their 
gallant defence, saw only scattered clear- 
ings among great forests. These, too, often 
concealed contending armies. While we 
cherish the recollection of gallant deeds 
performed, where English and French 
speaking Canadians equally distinguished 
themselves, it is not necessary to dwell on 
the bitter associations of those times. We 
are at peace, and live in what we hope will 
be an abidmg friendship and alliance with 
the great and generous people of the South. 
They then endeavored to conquer us, but 
were in the end only enabled to entertain 
for the Canadian that respect which is the 
only true and lasting foundation of friend- 
ship. We must be thankful and rejoice that 
our rivalries vvith them are now only in the 
fruitful fields of commerce. Our resources 
in these peaceful paths are daily supplying 
the sinews of strength and the power to us 
in resources and population which would 
make any war undertaken against Canada 
a war that would be a long and difficult 
one. They do not desire to invade us. W^e 
trust that such a desire will never again 
arise, for nations do not now so often as 
of old interfere with their neighbors 
when no faction invites interference. 
If in 1812 Canada was dear for her own 
sake to Canadians, how much more is she 
now? Then possessed only of a small pop- 
ulation, enjoying liberty under the aegis of 
narrow constitution, now we see in her a 
great and growing people, self-governed at 



home, proud of the freest form of consti- 
tution, and able to use in association with 
her own representative the diplomatic 
strength of a great empire for the making 
of her commercial compacts with other na- 
tions. With us there is no party which 
would invite excursions or change of gov- 
ernment. No man has a chance of success 
in Canadian public life, no one is counte- 
nanced by our people, who is not a lover of 
free institutions. In inviting here the Gov- 
ernor-General you have an officer present 
who as the head of the federal government 
is nothing but the first and abiding rep- 
resentative of the people. It is, however, 
not only as an official that I rejoice with 
you to-day. Personal feelings make it a 
joyful hour for me when I can visit the 
cradle of so much worth and valor, sur- 
rounded as I am by the members of the 
family of Monsieur de Salaberry. The 
Princess and I can never forget the intimate 
friendship which existed between Prince 
Edward, Duke of Kent, and Colonel de 
Salaberry — a friendship between families 
which, I may be allow'ed to hope, will not 
be confined to the grandfathers. The 
Princess asked me to express the deep 
interest she takes in this celebration. 
She wishes me to convey to you her 
sorrow that she is not here to-day with us. 
She yet hopes to be able to see this monu- 
ment, where for the first time Canadian art 
has so honorably recorded in sculpture 
Canadian loyalty, bravery and genius." 



THE DUALITY OF LANGUAGE AND RACE. 



SIR WILFRID LAURIER is perhaps 
the most eloquent of living Canadian 
statesmen. The following extract is from a 
speech in the House of Commons on Feb. 
17, 1890, directed against Mr. McCarthy's 
Bill to abolish the French language in Leg- 
islatures of the Northwest Territories: 



'T am not ignorant of, nor will I mini- 
mize, the danger which arises to Canada, 
from the fact that we have here a 
duality of language and a duality of race. 
But the fact exists, and ostracism of any 
kind, instead of removing the danger, 
would simply intensify it, by forcing a sec- 




RT. HON. SIR WILFRED LAURIER, G. C. M. G., ranks high among the statesmen 
of Greater Britain. As Premier of Canada since 1896, he has shown himself able, liberal, 
and resourceful. Born at St. Lin, in 1841, he began the study of law nineteen years later 
in Montreal. Alternately advocate and journalist, he entered political life as the repre- 
sentative of Drummond and Arthabaska in the Quebec Assembly of 1871. He transferred 
to the Dominion Parliament and ultimately (1887) became leader of the Liberal Party. 



CANADIAN ORATIONS. 



tion of our population to hate the institu- 
tions under which they hve — intensify it, 
because it would bring a section of our 
population into conflict with the majority, 
vv-hich would thus abuse the brute power 
of number. . It seems to me that the honor- 
able gentleman must feel that the policy 
he is now championing is weak and in- 
ferior. Any policy which appeals to a class, 
to a creed, to a race, or which does not ap- 
peal to the better instincts to be found in 
all classes, in all creeds, and in all races, 
,is stamped with a stamp of inferiority. The 
French-Canadian who appeals to his fel- 
low-countrymen to stand by themselves, 
aloof from the rest of this continent; the 
English Canadian who, like my honorable 
friend, appeals to his fellow-countrymen 
on grounds affecting them alone, ma}', per- 
haps, win the applause of those whom they 
may be addressing, but impartial history 
will pronounce their work as vicious in 
conception as it is mischievous and wicked 
in its tendency. We are here a nation, or 
we want to be a nation, composed of the 
most heterogeneous elements — Protestants 
and Catholics, English, French, German, 
Irish, Scotch, everyone, let it be remem- 
bered, with his traditions, with his preju- 
dices. In each of these conflicting antag- 
onistic elements, however, there is a com- 
mon spark of patriotism, and the only true 
policy is that which reaches that common 
patriotism and makes it vibrate in all, to- 
wards a common end and common aspira- 
tions. I may be asked: What, then, is to 
be the future of Canada? The future of 



Canada is this : that it must be British, 
I do not share the dreams or the delusions 
of those few of my fellow-countrymen of 
French origin who talk to us of forming 
a French nation on the banks of the St. 
Lawrence; and I would say to my honor- 
able friend from Simcoe, if he were here, 
that these dream.s ought not to disturb his 
sleep. Those who share these delusions are 
very few; they might be counted upon the 
fingers of one hand, and I never knew 
but one newspaper which ever gave them 
utterance. Yet, while I say this country 
is bound to be British, it does not follow at 
all that there must be but one language — 
the English language — to be spoken in 
this country. I claim that I am as loyal 
as the honorable gentleman to the institu- 
tions of this country, and I am the son of 
a French mother, and I declare that I 
cling to the language which I learned at 
her knee as I cling to the life which she 
gave me. And upon this ground I ap- 
peal to every man of British origin, to 
every man of that race in which the do- 
mestic affections are so strong; and I know 
that in the heart of everyone the answer 
will be that, situated as we are, they would 
do as we do. But the honorable gentle- 
man will revert to the cold, dry argument, 
that after all, a duality of race will produce 
friction and that friction will produce dan- 
ger. But where is the remedy? I tell the 
honorable gentleman that the remedy is not 
in ostracism nor in harsh methods nor in 
cruel methods." 



THE FOUNDERS OF UPPER CANADA. 



HE following extract from an. address 
delivered by Sir Oliver Mowat on the 
Centenary of Constitutional Government 
in Upper Canada, shows the talent and 
ability of the man who for so many years 



controlled the pohtical interests of the 
Province of Ontario: 

"The proclamation issued by Governor 
Simcoe at Kingston a hundred years ago 
this day was the first step in the political 




l^^^^J^m^!^^ .A., '^r-^^ > y^ i' ^*.f !m0^^3 m^Li >y:-i^.' 



SIR OLIVER MOWAT, G. C. M. G., Lieutenant-Governor of Ontario, ex-Minister 
of Justice for the Dominion, and ex-Premier of Ontario, is one of the few surviving 
"Fathers of Confederation." A man of shrewdness and tenacity, high attainments and 
brilliancy, he maintained a leading position in the Province of Ontario for nearly half a 
century. He was born at Kingston, in 1820, and served as a law student of the office of 
Mr. (afterwards Sir) John A. Macdonald. In 1857 he was elected to the Parliament of 
Canada. As a constitutional lawyer he has won high praise. 



CANADIAN ORATIONS. 



483 



history of the Province, and was doubtless 
an event of intense interest, as it was of 
great importance, to the white population 
of the Province at that time. 

"That population was small — 10,000 
souls only, as some estimated. These early 
settlers of Upper Canada were distin- 
guished for industry, courage and a sense 
of religion and its duties. Take them all 
in all they were a noble ancestry, of whom 
a country may well feel proud. Whether 
their loyalty was a mistake and a misfor- 
tune as some aver, or whether, on the other 
hand, it is to be rejoiced over, as the people 
of Canada generally have always felt, there 
can be no denial that it was, at all events, 
a profound sentiment on their part. Ac- 
cording to their view, in allowing this sen- 
timent to guide their conduct, they were 
acting on principle and performing duty. 
They were as fond of the good things of life 
as their neighbors were. They were as 
much attached to their houses and lands, 
their goods and their chattels, as others 
were, and as desirous of success in life for 
themselves and their children. But when 
the provinces in which they lived ceased 
to be British provinces and became part 
of a new nation hostile to the old they for- 
sook all the material advantages and pros- 
pects which they had in their old homes, 
and followed the flag of Britain into the 
wilds of Canada, preferring the privations 
and hardships and poverty which might be 
their lot there^ rather than to live under 
the flag of the Revolution. The material 



sacrifices which they made at the call of 
what they believed to be duty and right, 
as well as just sentiment, constitute a glo- 
rious record, and that record has influ- 
enced the sentiment and conduct of the 
Canadian people ever since. Those early 
settlers had been born British subjects, they 
loved the British name; British subjects 
it was their determination under all tempta- 
tions to remain, and on British soil to 
live out their lives, whatever the detemin- 
ation should cost them. 

'Tn view of the relations to it of us all, and 
in view of the history of the country and of 
what is now known of its immense possibil- 
ities, there have grown up among its peo- 
ple, alongside of the old attachment to 
the British name and British nation and 
of the pride felt in British achievements in 
peace and war, a profound love for Can- 
ada also, a pride in Canada and hopes of 
Canada as one day to become a great Brit- 
ish nation; British, whether in a political 
sense in connection or not with the United 
Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland; 
British because Britain is the nation of the 
birth or origin of most of us, and has the 
profoundest respect and admiration of all; 
British because Canadians retain more of 
British institutions and British peculiarities 
than are possessed in other lands; British 
because of most of its people being more 
attached to Britain and more anxious for 
its well-being than they are with respect to 
any other nation in the world." 



LIEUT.-COL. DENISON ON IMPERIAL FEDERATION. 



^p^ HE movement for Imperial Federa- 
^ If tion took place in Canada towards 
the end of the eighties. One of the most 
famous of its advocates was Lieut. Col. 
Denison, now president of the British Em- 
pire League in Canada. On March 29, 



1890, Col. Denison in a speech at Guelph 
outlined the reasons for his advocacy of the 
idea. He spoke in part as follows: 

"Now, if I ask you to adopt a new idea, 
such as that of imperial federation, I think 
it is necessary in the first place that I 




LT.-COL. GEORGE TAYLOR DENISON comes of a family of soldiers. His great- 
grandfather, a captain in an English regiment, settled in Toronto in 1796. His grandfather 
was an officer in the war of 1812. He has taken a steady interest in the militia, serving 
actively in 1866 and 1885, and is a world-known authority on cavalry tactics. In 1877 he 
won the first prize offered by the Emperor of Russia for the best "History of Cavalry." He 
has published many other important books. 



CANADIAN ORATIONS. 



485 



should give you some reasons why we 
should think of any change whatever from 
our present condition. Now, a great many 
people are under the impression that we are 
doing very well as we are ; that there is no 
reason why things should not go on as 
they are; that there is no earthly reason 
why we should begin to make any move 
towards change. That is the idea that 
would strike anyone at the first blush. In 
1886, when imperial federation was first 
thought of, a branch was formed in Mon- 
treal, and shortly afterwards I was request- 
ed to organize, or aid some gentlemen in 
organizing, in Toronto a branch of the Im- 
perial Federation League. And I was re- 
quested to take the position of president 
of the branch, which I promptly refused to 
do, because I said there was no reason why 
we should make any change. I said we 
were doing very well, and gathering- 
strength day by day; that the country was 
prosperous and progressive, and that we 
had every freedom that any people need 
wish to have, and therefore why should we 
wish to make any change? The result was 
that I then refused to have anything to do 
with the movement. I was in England in 
1887 for some three months, and while I 
was away a movement was started in the 
United States, and was brought into Can- 
ada and launched here, in favor of what was 
called Commercial Union. I heard a lit- 
tle about it in England, but I could not 
understand the meaning of it. After I got 
back, however, I took the trouble of in- 
vestigating the question, and trying to 
make out in my own mind what was the 
meaning of it. I could not understand why 
it should come in that way. I read a great 
deal on the subject, and at last I came to 
the conclusion that I had formed a pretty 
good idea of what it was. As soon as I 
found that out I said that if we were going 
to have any change we must have some 



different change from that. So I set to 
work to try and find out, looking at the 
evidences that appeared upon the surface, 
what were the leading motives for bringing 
about this movement. I don't know wheth- 
er many of you may be aware — perhaps 
those of you who have been in Toronto 
may know — that I have been the police 
magistrate of that city for the last twelve 
or thirteen years,- and it has been my busi- 
ness to try and find out crooked work. I 
think that from long practice perhaps I 
may have acquired greater facility than 
some people in knowing crooked work 
when I see it, and I came to the conclu- 
sion that this commercial union movement 
was crooked work. 

"He (Erastus Wiman) told us that com- 
mercial union would make us all rich; that 
it would give us markets for our manufac- 
tures, and then he went over there and told 
these manufacturers that he would bring 
half a continent to trade with them. Well, 
ladies and gentlemen, if we are going to 
send things for sale to them that they pro- 
duce themselves, it is not so much of a 
market for us. But if they were only go- 
ing to carry out commercial union that 
would not amount to anything. The 
Canadian people would settle that very 
quickly. But there are many elements of 
danger in connection with this thing. These 
people will not stop at simply advocating 
an idea of that sort. They have given up 
the idea of commercial union, and they are 
now getting ready to try and get this coun- 
try by some more forcible methods. The 
New York World recently advocated an 
expenditure of five or six million dollars 
to be used in our elections, as if the Can- 
adian people would sell themselves like a 
lot of sheep. The New York World, if 
that were tried, would soon find what kind 
of stufT Canadian people are made of — as 
Dr. Beers told them in Syracuse, Canada 



486 



CANADIAN ORATIONS. 



is not for sale. Now they are working out 
another scheme. They are arranging to 
spend $349,000,000 on building an enor- 
mous navy. What does that mean? A 
friend of mine in Boston said to me the 
other day: 'Colonel, the only thing that 
prevents the Canadian people from now be- 
ing in arms in defense of their country is 
the fear of the British iron-clads.' Now, 
then, if these conspirators who are trying to 
bring about the annexation of Canada wish 
to bring it about by forcible methods it 
v.'ould be absolutely impossible for them to 
induce the right-thinking, decent people of 
the United States— and I am glad to say 
there are millions of them — to start a war 
upon a peaceable and inoffensive neighbor- 
ing people, unless they were under the be- 
lief that we Canadians wanted them to 
come to our relief. I have been for the 
last year or two in receipt of a large num- 
ber of newspapers from different parts of 
the United States sent to me by Canadians 
who have a sympathy with the Mother 
Land and who have a strong desire that 
Canada may not be involved in the United 
States in any way. These papers have 
led me to form a pretty good idea of the 
drift of the feeling in the United States, 
and I say there is growing up everywhere 
over the United States a constant desire to 
teach the people of that country that we 
in Canada, instead of being the freest peo- 
ple on God's earth, are a down-trodden set 
of serfs trampled under the iron hoof of 
British despotism. Ladies and gentlemen, 
I tell you that in i860 it would have been 
impossible for the politicians of the North- 
ern States to have brought on a war with 
the South had not the people — the right- 
thinking, religious people — of the United 
States believed that it was their proper. 



their humane duty to try and release the 
slaves and abolish slavery. I say in the 
same way it would be impossible for them 
to induce the people of the United States 
to commence a war for the conquest of 
Canada unless they were told chat we want- 
ed them and that we would welcome them 
with open arms. And every man who to- 
day in Canada would say one word in favor 
of annexation, every man who would say 
a single word to try and lead in that direc- 
tion, takes a direct step towards bringing 
armed hosts into this country. I don't 
think, ladies and gentlemen, that these peo- 
ple in the United States — and I say that a 
great number of them are friendly to us — 
would ever do this if it were not for the 
constant misrepresentations that are being 
made to them, but we know the feelings 
that the politicians among them had dur- 
ing the last elections when it was a race 
between them to see which party could be 
most unjust and most hostile both to Can- 
ada and our Empire. In addition to that 
I have the authority of my friend Mr. Mo- 
wat, leader of the Government of Ontario, 
whom I heard at the Toronto board of trade 
say that 'the people of the United States 
are a hostile people.' He never said a 
truer word than when he said that the 
people of the United States, and particu- 
larly the politicians, were a hostile peo- 
ple. Now, if there is any truth in this, that 
there is any movement in the United States 
that may tend to afifect our national life, is 
it not our duty, now while we have time, to 
try and get things in order — to get our 
sails reefed and everything ready to stand 
the storm; is it not our duty to do every- 
thing we can to make this country solid 
and sure?" 



CANADIAN O R A T I O N S. 



487 



THE GREATNESS OF OUR HERITAGE. 



I HIS quotation from an address by the 
1^' Hon. John Schultz, Lieutenant-Gov- 
ernor of Manitoba, on Dominion Day, 1891, 
shows how enthusiastic were the early set- 
tlers in the Great West : 

"A single glance at an ordinary school 
geography shows Canada to be one of 
the most favored portions of the globe; 
and as if Providence had kept in re- 
serve its best gifts for this latest born 
of nations, we have wafted into our spa- 
cious western harbors and along our pic- 
turesque Pacific coast the balmy winds of 
the Western ocean, and with them that 
ocean stream which makes flowers bloom 
and trees bud near the Arctic circle as 
early as on the Mississippi or the St. Law- 
rence, just .as the great stream poured out 
by the Mexican Gulf foils the Ice King's 
blockade of the magnificent harbors of our 
Eastern coasts, and nourishes those deep- 
sea pastures of which Canada possesses the 
richest in the world. As a means of access 
to the interior of this favored land. Nature 
has cleft our rugged Eastern coast with 
mighty rivers and great lakes which bear 
the home hunter to the verge of our great 
cereal Table-Land, where, through future 
wheat fields, turn and wind the rivers of the 
great plain, the Red, Assiniboine, Souris, 
Qu'Appelle and Saskatchewan, 

'This great country bounded by three 
oceans has the greatest extent of coast Hne; 
the greatest number of miles of river and 
lake navigation; the greatest extent of con- 
iferous forest; the greatest coal measures; 
the most varied distribution of precious 
and economic minerals; the most extensive 
salt and fresh water fisheries ; and the great- 
est extent of arable and pastoral land of 
any country in the world. 



'This great northern heritage so vast in 
area and resources which we call our own 
country is possessed by a northern race 
and ruled by a northern Queen. Its na- 
tional characteristics are northern, it is the 
Northland of this continent; to the north- 
ern races of the old world whence we 
sprang we look for our national character- 
istics. 

"We have in this Dominion more Celts 
than had Brian when he placed his heel 
upon the neck of Odin, more Saxons than 
had Alfred when he founded his kingdom, 
more Normans than had William when he 
drew from them the armed host with which 
he invaded England, more of Norse blood 
than there were Norsemen when their 
kings ruled Britain and their galleys swept 
the sea. We are the descendants of all the 
northern kingdom-founders of Western 
Europe. We have the laws of Edward, the 
Magna Charta and the Roman Code; we 
have copied the constitution which English 
statesmen, legislators, patriots and martyrs 
lived or died to secure and save. We have 
resources by sea and land, civil and re- 
ligious liberty; we are heirs, equally with 
those who live in the British Isles, to the 
glory and traditions of the British Empire. 
Canadians have fought side by side with 
the Englishman, Irishman and Scot on the 
burning sands of India and Africa, and on 
the bleak battlefields of the Crimean Pen- 
insula, and they have died as bravely, too, 
as any of them. 

"But while, with just pride, we remember 
the deeds of our ancestors for the past 
thousand years, and know that when neces- 
sary the blood of the sea-kings, the sturdy 
Saxon, the gallant Norman, and the fiery 
Celt which is in our veins will assert it- 
self again, yet, thanks be to Almighty God, 




SIR JOHN CHRISTIAN SCHULTZ, M. D„ left Ontario for what is now the Prov- 
ince of Manitoba in i860. He was doctor, fur-trader and journalist. During the first 
Rebellion he was imprisoned by Riel and was in great danger of being shot. He made his 
escape, however, and found his way back through the United States to Toronto, where he 
was warmly welcomed by his friends of the "Canada First" party. He was a great nation- 
alist and a thorough believer in his country. The memory of his sturdy loyalty is his 
monument. 



CANADIAN ORATIONS. 



48( 



our national life began and has continued 
in peace; and as we chose for our national 
emblems the Canadian beaver and the 
maple leaf, so have we sought to build up, 
harm.onize and beautify our splendid herit- 
age by the arts of peace and not by the arts 
of war. During the short period, less than 
a quarter of a century, of our national life, 
we have girded the continent with bands 
of steel, piercing mountains, spanning tor- 
rents; and crossing the snow-capped giants 
of the Rocky and Selkirk chains, we have 
linked our young Canadian Empire to 
Japan and China, the oldest empires of the 
Orient. We have justified our traditions 
on the sea, in making Canada third in rank 
of the maritime nations of the world; and 
at this moment the sails of Canadian ships 
whiten every sea, commanded by Canadian 
descendants of Drake and Hawkins, Fro- 
bisher and Richard Grenville, Nelson and 
Collingwood, Cartier and D'Iberville. Bet- 
ter still than even this material progress is 
the fact that our nationality is founded up- 
on the mutual respect and confidence of 
the people, surrounded by the sanctity of 
religion, and crowned with its only ap- 
propriate capital. Lawful Constitutional 
Authority. On the youth of Canada rests 
the future of this great country, the ex- 
emplification of the attributes of our great 
race. Recreant to this trust they may pos- 
sibly be, but I see nothing to disturb my 



deep-seated conviction that they will con- 
tinue as they have begun ; and building this 
nation in the fear of Him who gave us this 
great heritage, with love for Her who gave 
us national life, endeavoring, as we have 
done, to dissolve all differences and melt 
away all jealousies in the crucible of mod- 
eration and justice, they will be strong 
enough to preserve its unity and success- 
ful enough to cause the day we now cele- 
brate to be even more deeply honored, and 
to rejoice in that birthright, which to my 
mind is even now the highest and best the 
world contains. 

"You will prosper so long as you are 
worthy of this great trust; you will be 
blessed in preserving it and strengthening 
it, so long as you seek divine aid to main- 
tain it as the most precious of your birth- 
rights, and you will rise to that place as a 
people in the great Empire of which we 
form a part in proportion as you follow His 
precepts and obey His Divine Law. Great 
as you are now, greater you will become, 
and as citizens of Canada, citizens of the 
Great British Empire, you will fulfil the 
prophecy of the Druid priest of Boadicea, 
the first British Queen, 

" 'Regions Caesar never knew 
Your posterity shall sway, 
Where his eagles never flew, 
None invincible as they.' " 



SIR WILLIAM DAWSON ON THE FUTURE LIFE. 



HE following extract from Sir Will- 
iam Dawson's address read before 
the World's Fair Religious Congress (Chi- 
cago, 1893,) gives some idea of this learned 
scholar's particular attitude on the relation 
between science and religion. It does not, 
however, show his powers of oratory, which 
were very great, as the address was written 



and Sir William was not present when it 
was read : 

"All animals are actuated by instincts 
adapted to their needs and place in nature, 
and we have a right to consider such in- 
stincts as in accordance with the will of 
their creator. Should we but regard the in- 
stitution of man in the same light, and also 




SIR JOHN WILLIAM DAWSON, whose fame is so closely associated with that of 
McGill University, of which he was principal from 1855 to 1893, was a great educationist, 
geologist and naturalist. As an educationist he was best known to the public. As a 
scientist he was best known to the students and scholars, who will preserve the memory of 
the greatest scholar Canada has yet produced. He was a Bluenose, having been bom at 
Pictou, N. S., in 1820. As a boy he began to study the geology of his province and at 
thirty years of age was Superintendent of Education of Nova Scotia. 



CANADIAN ORATIONS. 



491 



what may be called his religious and moral 
instincts? Of these, perhaps one of the 
most universal next to the belief in a god 
or gods is that in a future life. It seems 
to have been implanted in those antedilu- 
vian men whose remains are found in cav- 
erns and alluvial deposits, and it has con- 
tinued to actuate their descendants ever 
since. This instinct of immortality should 
surely be recognized by science as consti- 
tuting one of the inherent and essential 
characters of humanity. So far in the di- 
rection of religion the science of nature 
may logically carry us without revelation, 
and we may agree with the Apostle Paul 
that even the heathen may learn God's 
power, and power and divinity prove the 
things that he has made. In point of fact, 
without the aid of either formal science or 
theology and in so far as known without any 
direct revelation, the belief in God and im- 
mortality has actually been the common 
property of all men, in some form more or 
less crude and imperfect. There are num- 
erous special points in revealed religion 
respecting which the study of nature may 
give some testimony. When natural sci- 
ence leaves merely material things and 
animal instincts, and acquaints itself wath 
the rational and ethical nature of man it 
raises new questions with reference to the 
first cause. This must include potentially 
all that is developed from it. Hence the 
rational and moral powers of man must be 
emanations from those inherent in the 
first cause, which thus becomes a divinity, 
having a rational and moral nature com- 



parable with that of man, but infinitely 
higher. 

"Atheistic exaggerations. On this point 
a strange confusion, produced apparently 
by the philosophy of evolution, seems to 
have affected some scientific thinkers, who 
seek to read back moral ideas into the his- 
tory of the world at a time when no mun- 
dane moral agent is known to have been 
in existence. They forget that it is no more 
immoral for a wolf to eat a lamb than for 
a Iamb to eat grass, and regarding man 
as if he were derived by the 'cosmic pro- 
cess' of struggle for existence from savage 
wild beasts rather than, as Darwin has it, 
from harmless apes, represent him as en- 
gaged in an almost hopeless and endless 
struggle against an inherited 'cosmic na- 
ture,' evil and immoral. This absurd and 
atheistic exaggeration of the theological 
idea of original sin, and the pessimism 
which springs from it, have absolutely no 
foundation in natural science. Even on 
the principle of evolution no moral dis- 
tinctions could be set up until men ac- 
quired a moral sense, and if, as Darwin 
held, they originated in apes, the descent 
from the simple habits and inoffensive ways 
of these animals to war and violence and 
injustice would be as much a 'fall of man' 
as that recorded in the Bible, and could 
have no connection with the previous inher- 
itance of evil. But such notions are 
merely the outcome of distorted philo- 
sophical ideas and have no affinity with 
science properly so called." 



CANADA'S PROUD POSITION. 



ICHOLAS FLOOD DAVIN, ex- 
[^ M. P. and journalist, is one of the 
most eloquent and polished of Canadian 
speakers, as may be gathered from the fol- 
lowing extract of a speech made in the 
House of Commons in February, 1900: 



"Sir, we in Canada occupy, in my opin- 
ion, about the happiest position that 
a race of people can occupy. We have a 
strong executive, but we have boundless 
individual liberty. There is no country in 
the world where the citizen is more free. 




NICHOLAS FLOOD DAVIN, K. C, is a barrister and journalist who spent his early 
life in London, England. He was parliamentary reporter at first, and later war correspondent 
during the Franco-German war. About 1872 he came to Canada. He is a linguist of high 
order and as a scholar ranks far above the ordinary. Perhaps his best known quality is his 
wit, inherited, no doubt, from his ancestors. He was born of Irish parents at Kilfinave, 
Limerick Co., Ireland, in 1843. 



CANADIAN ORATIONS. 



493 



and there is no country where Law and 
order are so certainly and steadily main- 
tained. Here in this country, therefore, 
Scotsman, Irishman, French Canadian, 
Englishman or German, whether he be 
born on the soil, or whether he has become 
naturalized, would be a dastard unless he 
felt grateful to the great empire that has 
conferred upon him such priceless privi- 
leges. And there is this to be said in re- 
gard to our position — that we have certain 
material advantages purchased at a very 
low price. We have behind us miles and 
miles of ships, the great "sea-dragons her 
sons have bred" of the empire; we have all 
her prestige and power, as my honorable 
friend (Mr. McNeill), who has introduced 
this subject, said. We have all this behind 
us, and every man, be he a settler of three 
years' residence, or be he born on the soil, 
wherever he goes, not a hair of his head 
shall be touched, for all that power and all 
that overshadowing prestige are behind 
him. And, Sir, especially I say that the 
French Canadian should be instinct with 
the feeling of Sir Etienne Pascal Tache, 
the chairman of the Quebec conference, 
whence confederation sprang, when he 
said that he believed that the last shot fired 



in defence of the British Empire on this 
continent would be fired from a French 
Canadian gun, and the trigger pulled by a 
French Canadian finger. A few years ago, 
when, on the other side of the line, there 
was some growling in regard to Canada, 
when the feeling w^as not as friendly as it 
is to-day, I stood in the later autumn on 
the citadel at Quebec and looked down on 
our great St. Lawrence stretching out 
mighty arms to the sea. I looked up and 
saw the scar of evening, and I felt that 
whatever planet might shine there, that 
for all Canada, and I will say even for 
the French Canadian who has a true con- 
ception of what he owes to the Empire, the 
real star that will always, for the patriotic 
heart, shine over Quebec is Wolfe's glory 
and Wolfe's victory. As I thus reflected 
the evening gun was fired, as the evening 
gun is fired on Pacific waters and at Hali- 
fax, and it seemed as if the august mother 
put her arms around her Canadian child 
and said: "Sleep in peace, my invincible 
arms are around you." It is because those 
arms are around us that we have that sense 
of security, that confidence in the present 
and in the future that belongs to us to- 
day." 



CANADA'S NATIONAL SPIRIT. 



T a Canadian Club banquet in New 
\{£,\ York, May 24, 1900, the Hon. G. W. 
Ross, Premier of Ontario, delivered a most 
eloquent and forcible address. Mr. Ross 
is undoubtedly one of the cleverest of 
Canadian orators. 

"Having said so much about the mate- 
rial prosperity of Canada, I might be asked 
has the national spirit of our people grown 
proportionately? This is a question that 
cannot be a^nswered by statistics; the evi- 
dence available, however, is quite circum- 
stantial, and, to my mind, conclusive. It 



would simply be impossible for any people 
possessing the traditions and the spirit of 
the Anglo-Saxon race, with half a contin- 
ent placed under their control, not to feel 
the pulsations of a stronger national life 
under the new conditions arising out of 
the federal union of Canada in 1867. The 
history of every progressive nation shows 
that territorial expansion is a stimulus to 
all its latent energies. Every colony added 
by the British Empire in the last two cen- 
turies has increased the confidence of Brit- 
ish subjects in the stability of the Empire, 




THE HON. GEORGE WILLIAM ROSS, Premier of Ontario, is one of the cleverest 
orators in Canada. He has won his way from a country schoolteacher to the political head 
of his Province, unaided and unassisted. Tact, ability and energy have carried him from 
one round of the ladder to the other, always upward. He was born in 1841 near Nairn, in 
the County of Middlesex in the Province of Ontario. He became Premier of the Province 
in 1900. The Hon. Mr. Ross is a gracious personality, and a very bright orator. 



CANADIAN ORATIONS. 



495 



and has, at the same time, strengthened its 
influence in the councils of the world. It 
is also well known that every extension of 
the original thirteen colonies of the United 
States, whether it was b}' the purchase of 
Florida or Louisiana, or the cession of 
California by Spain, or the occupation of 
the Mississippi Valley by immigrants from 
the old world added to the national force of 
the American Republic and to the spirit 
as well as the enterprise of the American 
citizen. When Canada enlarged her West- 
ern boundary to the Pacific and became the 
owner of the Northwest Territories, Can- 
adians felt that vast opportunities were pre- 
sented to them, and with a proper effort 
on their part a great future lay before them. 
We were then no longer .a few 'arpents of 
snow' in the Valley of the St. Lawrence, 
nor a struggling line of settlements along 
the northern boundary of our inland lakes, 
but we were in territorial extent greater 
than any European empire, with possibil- 
ities which appealed to the enterprise of the 
capitalist, the prescience of the statesman 
and the imagination of every citizen, no 
matter what his pursuit or calling in life. 
The country developed. The effect of this 
was to give a fresh impulse to the energies 
of our people and to awaken in them a 
consciousness of the great heritage which 
had been placed at their disposal. So we 



innnediately set about the conquest of the 
land. Our canals were deepened; the con 
tinent was spanned by railways on Can- 
adian territory; capital was invested in fac- 
tories and mines ; and a new competition in- 
troduced to the markets of the world, with 
what success the increase in the exports 
and imports of the country already given 
fully shows. 

"The larger area of government involved 
in confederation has also, I think, devel- 
oped in us a broader spirit of citizenship. 
Perhaps we are too parochial still, perhaps 
Canadian politics, in some respects, suffer 
yet from the traditions of the past. Still, 
the problems of government that arise un- 
der our federal system, and the larger 
schemes for national development which 
we are bound to consider, are beginning 
to have perceptibly a broadening effect up- 
on the public men of Canada. It is well 
known that a people who live within them- 
selves can never attain a high national 
standing. Foreign commerce is to a nation 
what the university is to the man. It is its 
highest school of learning. It stimulates 
inventiveness; it suggests originality in 
business and trade; it develops statesman- 
ship and opens up new fields for diplomacy 
and enterprise. The history of England 
very fully illustrates this proposition." 



ARCHBISHOP MACHRAY'S TRIBUTE TO THE QUEEN. 



HE memorial service in the Anglican 
fl^ Cathedral at Ottawa on February 3, 
1 90 1, was an historic event. It was at- 
tended by the Governor-General and the 
Countess of Minto, by several cabinet min- 
isters and many prominent persons. Arch- 
bishop Machray took as his text I. Kings, 
2:10, and paid a high tribute to Her 
Majesty. He said (in part): 



"This is not the time nor the occasion 
to dwell on the glories of her illustrious 
reign; on the vast territorial extension of 
the Empire, and the growth of its power, 
particularly the expansion of that great 
colonial Empire, the Greater Britain that 
hardly existed when she ascended the 
throne; on the contentment of the people 
in the consciousness of the fullest liberty, 




THE MOST REV. ROBERT MACHRAY, Archbishop of Rupert's Land and Primate 
of all Canada for the Church of England, is a native of Aberdeen, Scotland. He rose to 
prominence in the British Church, and in 1865 was appointed Second Bishop of Rupert's 
Land. Since then he has been the leading Protestant minister in the Province of Manitoba, 
being Chancellor of the University of Manitoba and Professor of Ecclesiastical history in 
St. John's College. He is an eloquent but unostentatious orator. 



CANADIAN ORATIONS. 



497 



and the ample protection of person and 
property, under equal laws impartially ad- 
ministered; on the unity of feeling and loyal 
attachment of its various peoples and na- 
tions to the throne and the state, which 
add immeasurable strength to the Empire, 
an internal source of strength far transcend- 
ing what we know of any nation in past 
times. And this is not the time nor the 
occasion to review the vast progress in so 
many directions during the long reign of 
our gracious Queen. The discoveries .and 
inventions of men of science have almost 
made a greater change during it, in the 
conditions of life, than in all the 2,000 
years before. Comforts and conveniences 
in countless ways are brought to the man 
of very ordinary means that previously the 
greatest monarch was a stranger to, and 
yet, wondrous as has been the material 
progress of our age during her long reign, 
it almost sinks in importance before the 
constant and cheering advance in humaniz- 
ing, elevating and religious influences. 
The world is not only a richer and brighter, 
but a happier, kmder, and probably better 
world than she found it. But to-day we 
think not of the events and issues that 
must ever make the reign illustrious in the 
history of the world, but of the beloved 
personality which has gone from us, the 
Queen, the mother, the woman. It is hard 
to measure the loss that the nation has 
sustained by her death. It is, no doubt, the 
case that she set .a noble example to the 
nation in all that was excellent in private 
life. A pure court has had its influence 
far outside itself. The influence descends 
and permeates society. It is no doubt also 
true that she possessed a womanly sym- 
pathy which brought her into touch with 
sufferers in every great trouble. By what- 
ever calamity men were cut off, and women 
and children bereaved, whether by disaster 
in a mine, by shipwreck or by action in war, 



there came words of thoughtful and touch- 
ing sympathy from the Queen that were 
like a very balm. No wonder that the 
throne became bound to the people by such 
affectionate ties. But it were a great mis- 
take to look on our late sovereign merely 
or chiefly from the point of view of such 
great excellencies of character. If we do 
so, we must fail to half realize the nation's 
loss. She had, in addition to such graces 
of character, and what was really the foun- 
tain of them ah, a heart resting on God 
and frequently in communion with Him, 
very striking natural abilities, aided by most 
extensive knowledge, accurate observation 
and correct judgment. She never went out 
of her place as a constitutional sovereign. 
She never usurped the position or intruded 
on the responsibilities of her constitutional 
advisers, but, at the same time, she exer- 
cised by the keen instinct of statesmanship 
she was felt to possess, and by her kindly 
and wise forethought, a very moderating 
and, at times, even controlling influence. 
Any action of her Government had to pass 
her wise and prudent criticism, and it is no 
secret that this more than once affected a 
step that might have landed the country in 
serious evils — for war is an unquestionable 
evil, if it can in any way be honorably 
avoided. And so it is beHeved that the 
words which lately fell from a Canadian 
statesman are hardly too strong: 'Her 
voice, though not heard outside her own 
council chamber, was the voice by which 
the will of the people was really expressed.' 
And, if the Queen exhibited the maturest 
wisdom in the great affairs of state, she 
showed no less common sense in all the 
concerns of daily life. She knew when 
and to whom to be simple and unbending — 
to the faithful servant, to the humble and 
honest cottager — and she knew when and 
of whom to exact the respect due to her ex- 
alted position. If, by a hundred deeds of 




HON. GEORGE EULAS FOSTER, LL. D, made his reputation as a professor in the 
University of New Brunswick and as a temperance orator. He is a native of New Bruns- 
wick, having been born at Apohaqui in 1847. In 1882 he entered Parliament as the repre- 
sentative for King's County, and has ever since been a leading figure in the House of 
Commons. As a speaker he is clear and logical, sometimes cold and severe. In parliamentary 
debate he is most skillful, quick to detect a flaw or turn a point in an opponent's argument. 



CANADIAN ORATIONS. 



499 



true-hearted sympathy and thoughtfulness, 
she drew to her the love of her people, she 
never lowered the dignity of the crown, 



and has handed it on to her successor with 
all its ancient splendor and circum- 
stance." 



GEORGE E. FOSTER ON PATRIOTISM. 



S a debater, the Hon. G. E. Foster is 
isj^ almost without a peer in Canada, 
and as an orator he takes no mean rank. 
The following is a peroration from an ad- 
dress on "Patriotism" delivered at Lindsay, 
Ontario: 

"Yonder, outlined in the arched gate- 
way of the coming century, I see a form of 
wondrous beauty, excellent in strength 
and radiant with sunny hope. 

"Maple wreaths entwine her brow, on 
either side crouch the bear and the beaver, 
and from her shining shoulders falls in 
graceful folds the flowing drapery of the 
flag that for a thousand years 'has braved 
the battle and the breeze.' 

"She waves her wand, and straightway 
the keen-bladed axe gleams in the sunlight 
tall pines and giant hemlocks crash to 
earth, and stately ships glide from their safe 
moorings to traverse her great rivers, her 
broad lakes and wide billowy seas. 

"She speaks the word, and lo! pick and 
drill and shovel are plied with ceaseless en- 
ergy imtil from a thousand yawning pits 
coal and iron and precious metals leap to 
the stu'face, transmitted into wealth and 
power. 

"She gives command, and, behold! plow 
and harrow, sickle and reaper mellow the 
deep soil and shear the rich increase till 



countless creaking wains bear the full har- 
vests home and her barns are filled with 
laughing golden plenty. 

"She lifts her hand and swift lightnings 
flash along a thousand wires — winged mes- 
sengers to do her will. Mammoth engines 
whirl her products over ten thousand miles 
of double shining steel, winds blow and 
waters flow to turn her vast machinery. 

"Again she speaks and in every hamlet, 
every city, school doors open wide, and 
merry trooping children enter with eager 
feet the temples of knowledge, serve there- 
in, and then bear in noisy, happy groups 
the precious garnering home again. 

"And yet once more on quiet Sabbath 
morns, when trafihc's swirling tide retires 
before the holy calm, and clear-toned notes 
from echoing belfries chime, See! she 
drops on bended knee, and with uplifted 
face and reverent closed eyes whispers to 
heaven her faith — 

" 'Our Fathers' God in Thee we trust.' 

"Ask ye who is this and what her name? 
Behold it is the genius of the great North- 
western land, the personification of your 
own loved Canada, lady of the gleaming 
winter snows and soft summer suns, daugh- 
ter in her imperial mother's house and mis- 
tress in her own." 



CANADA'S DUTY TO THE EMPIRE. 



r^JlRINCIFAL GRANT, of Queen's 
j^ University, is well known for his 
ability on the platform and with the pen. 
He has also been one of the strongest 
advocates for Imperial development and 



one of the ablest exponents of Canada's 
possibilities as a part of the Empire. His 
speech at the first meeting of the Imperial 
Federation League in Montreal in May, 
1885, is one of his best. 




PRINCIPAL GEORGE MONRO GRANT, LL. D., of Queen s University, might have 
been a great politician, a noted litterateur or an envied millionaire. Choosing the church 
he put his versatility into play to such an extent that in 1877, when forty-two years of age, 
the brilliant Nova Scotian was chosen to take charge of the most important educational 
institution under control of the Presbyterian Church in Canada. As an orator, he is 
versatile, witty and pleasing. As a debater he has hardly any equal in the country. 



CANADIAN ORATIONS. 



501 



"This, then, is our position. We are 
Britons. We are the Canadian subjects of 
Her Majesty? We intend to fight it out 
on this Hne. What, then, let us ask next, 
is immediately and of necessity involved in 
this position? This, — that we must take 
upon ourselves, with the least possible delay, 
its burdens as well as its blessings. During 
the whole of this century we have been 
gradually emerging from the state of 
pupilage, and we Federationists have the 
audacity to assume that we ought now to 
consider ourselves full-grown men, and no 
longer babes and wards. Up to 1818 Great 
Britain paid all the expenditure connected 
with the Civil Government of this Province. 
In 1810 the House of Assembly felt that 
the Province had so prospered as the result 
of half a century of British institutions that 
it offered to undertake this burden, but 
advantage was not taken of the ofifer for 
several years. Thereafter England was 
still obliged to defend us from external and 
internal enemies. Generously she did so. 
often getting little thanks. Gradually she 
left us the duty of keeping the peace within 
our own borders, so that now we are sup- 
pressing an insurrection entirely by the ex- 
penditure of our own blood and treasure. 
That is so far good, but is that enough? 
Certainly not. There are external enemies, 
and should they attack, what defences 
would we have save the ports of Halifax 
and Quebec, and the wooden walls that 
float on every sea? How much do we con- 
tribute to maintain that irresistible fleet in 
efficiency? Not one dollar. We boast often 
enough that we are the fifth maritime 
power in the world. Every other maritime 
power has to pay for the honor and the 
profit of owning ships. In the event of 
war, what would become of our shipping 
if it was not protected by British bull-dogs? 
What would become of our fisheries? Our 
coasts might be ravaged; Halifax, St. 



John, the Gulf ports, Victoria, taken; the St. 
Lawrence waterway invaded, and Montreal 
laid under contribution or in ashes, if there 
was no fleet to sweep the seas, and keep 
watch and ward for us. You say that those 
evils would come upon Canada because of 
its connection with Britain. Of course they 
would, but we have already decided that 
union with England is preferable to isola- 
tion or annexation, and we cannot have any 
condition of things without its risks and 
responsibilities. Only children fancy that 
they can eat their cake and have it, but 
sometimes we, or some of us, talk like 
children. Well, then, the fleet of England 
is indispensable to our security, yet we do 
not pay a cent for the ships, or the guns 
or the men. Is it consistent with honor, 
consistent with self-respect, that this state 
of things should continue? At present, the 
poorest day laborer could come here, any 
poor Hodge from England, Sandy from 
Scotland or Pat from Ireland, and, stand- 
ing high above all the millionaries of Mont- 
real, all our Right Honorables and Honor- 
ables, Senators and Members of Parlia- 
ment, say to the whole box and dice of 
them: "Worthy gentlemen, I protect you." 
That we may not sink utterly under our 
own self-contempt, let us in the exercise 
of our self-government do the right thing 
here. Let the Premier move, and let the 
leader of the Opposition second, that a sum 
— no matter what the amount, any amount 
they may consider reasonable in the cir- 
cumstances — be offered as a voluntary 
contribution towards the expenses of our 
com.mon guardian, though everything else 
should have to stand aside for the moment. 
Let this be done as a simple acknowledg- 
ment of our duty. This is the first step to 
take, and until it is taken all our protesta- 
tions of fervent loyalty cannot be regarded 
as anything better than lip-service. I invite 
the attention of those gentlemen who say 



502 



CANADIAN ORATIONS. 



that we confine ourselves to generalities 
to this, and ask them why they wish us to 
go into more details until this is settled. 
One step at a time. You may say that 
Britain does not demand this of us, that at 
present we gain by her generosity, and that 
she would be obliged to have a fleet even 
if Canada did not exist. And these are the 
arguments of men of honor, of grown men! 
They are willing to be wards as long as 
they possibly can, to accept rations as long 
as they are offered! We gain, do we? We 
lose more than we gain. I never knew a 
man or nation yet that gained by sponging. 
I demand the privileges of a full-grown 
man, and first of all the privilege of paying 
my own way. We talk of our loyalty. I 
ask simply that we back our words with 
deeds, unless we are willing that our cheers 
for the Queen should be sneered at as so 
much cheap gas. Remember, there is no 
need for extra machinery to enable us to 
do this duty. By voluntary action on our 
part, in the exercise of our own self-gov- 
ernment, we can do it at once. We could 
vote $100,000 for poverty-stricken Irish- 
men, but at the very same time the poor 
Irishmen were being taxed to protect us. 
This is not a case, either, in which it is first 
necessary to demand more representation. 
We have all the representation already that 
we need. Besides, the measure of repre- 
sentation can never be the measure of duty. 
Women cannot send some of their number 
to Parliament, or vote even for men, but 
they do their duty none the less. Thou- 
sands of Canadians who have no vote pay 
their taxes and are expected to do their 
duty to the country. How many British 
subjects were represented in Parliament in 
the days of Alfred, Cromwell, Nelson, but 
all the time England expected every man 
to do his duty. And every man did it, 
thanks be to the God of our Fathers. Eng- 
land has done her duty by us, and let us not 



forget it. Whenever we have needed her 
strong right arm it has been raised to fight 
for us, and what better proof of fidelity can 
man or nation give? Let us be equally 
faithful. We could then speak with regard 
to the protection of our shores as we can- 
not speak now. We could speak by letter 
or cable, or Agent General, or in any other 
way, feeling that we are on the same plat- 
form with those whom we addressed. What 
would be the results of such action on our 
part? It would do more to convince the 
people of Britain that we are in earnest 
than fine speeches, fine writing and loud 
cheering could accomplish in a century. 
They would think of us no longer as 
if we were only children. They would 
know that they were dealing with men, 
and with their equals. John Bull is 
a creature of singular veracity and good 
sense. He likes to have solid ground under 
his feet. He is always ready to back his 
opinions or his statements with his money, 
and until he sees that we are willing to do 
the same he must have in his secret soul a 
kind of contempt for us. We must put 
ourselves right. We must create a passion 
for the unification of the Empire in the 
Mother Country, and when that is done, 
difficulties that seem now insurmountable 
will vanish. What a destiny for us! To be 
full partners with the richest, truest, grand- 
est nation in the world, is it not enough to 
stir the blood of the coldest? Let us begin 
by doing our duty and everything else 
will follow. A common understanding on 
commercial matters would be one of the 
first results. I could indicate a reasonable 
solution on this subject, but the time has 
not come. It is enough to say that when 
the British people are in earnest, things 
will be done that would now be considered 
only the wild dreams of a visionary. A 
common understanding with regard to for- 
eign relations, and the promotion of com 



CANADIAN ORATIONS. 



503 



moil interests and the discharge of common 
duties would also be results, and though 
this language may be styled vague by hand- 
to-mouth politicians, it is specific enough 
for those who look ahead. Future results, 
would, I trust, be an indissoluble alliance, 
perhaps an intimate union with the United 
States, that would ensure the peace of the 
world, peace with honor, peace for the pro- 
motion of righteousness. But, results are 
not for us. They are not in our power. It 
is ours to do our duty. The time has come 
for us to take action, and in such case it is 
enough to know what is the first step. 
England is beginning to understand that 
cordial relations with her great colonies is 
a question more important than any other. 
By responsible statesmen she is making 
overtures to us, and we must respond. The 
more generously we do so the better. Re- 
member what she has done for us. Not 
only on the Plains of Abraham and Queens- 
town Heights, but wherever she has struck 



a blow — and on how many fields has she 
stricken home for "the good old cause" — 
she fought for us and our children. I stand 
with Browning, and so I am sure do we 
all:— 

"Nobly, nobly, Cape St. Vincent to the 

northwest died away; 
Sunset ran one glorious blood-red, reeking 

into Cadiz Bay; 
Bluish 'mid the burning water, full in face 

Trafalgar lay; 
In the dimmest northeast distance dawned 

Gibraltar grand and gray ; 
Here and here did England help me, how 

can I help England, say 
Ye who turn, as I this evening, turn to God 

to praise and pray." 

O England, mother of lions, mother of 
heroes, mother of nations, the world would 
be poor without thee! Which of thy chil- 
dren will desert thee? 



IRELAND, CANADA AND THE EMPIRE. 



Dr. Potts, one of the leading Methodist 
divines, in 1900 delivered a memorable ad- 
dress before the Irish Protestant Benevo- 
lent Society. In part it was as follows : 

P|Wi ^ theme to-night is 'Ireland, Can- 
l^V'l sc^a and the Empire.' To each 
of chese we are related, and in all of them 
deeply interested. Ireland is the place of 
our birth, or of the birth of our ancestors; 
Canada is the place of our residence and of 
our immediate and practical interest, while 
the Empire in these days of imperialism is 
the joy of all our patriotic hearts. 

"This occasion and the auspices under 
which we meet give pre-eminence to Ire- 
land. The most pathetic thing in the recent 
history of Ireland was the visit of our late 
gracious Queen Victoria. It was not a visit 



of expediencey. It was not a visit at the 
suggestion of the Ministers of State, but 
rather in spite of them. It was as though 
the Queen Mother said, T will go before 
I die and see my Irish subjects.' The re- 
ception by all classes, from the Lord Mayor 
of Dublin down, was as grateful as the visit 
of the Queen was gracious. From every 
part of the country the people of Ireland 
thronged to Dublin that they might gaze 
upon their beloved Queen. Many and 
touching were the incidents which oc- 
curred and which shall keep the memory of 
good Queen Victoria as green as the green- 
ness of the green Isle of the Ocean. 

"Ireland. The name of our native land 
need hardly be mentioned, for it is written 
upon all our hearts, and is as ineffaceable 
from our memories as that of mother, wife 




REV. JOHN POTTS, D. D., like many another brilliant Canadian, came to this country 
from Ireland while yet a very young man. He is a graduate of Victoria University (now 
College). He has filled the leading Methodist pulpits in Hamilton, Montreal and Toronto. 
Since 1886 he has been "general secretary of education" for his church and is also secretary 
of Victoria College. ^Dr. Potts is a man of great energy and intellectual ability. As an 
orator, he stands conspicuous in a church which has many notable speakers. He is powerful, 
forcible, and convincing on all occasions. 



CANADIAN ORATIONS. 



505 



or sweetheart. Its geographical position 
need not be defined, nor need I tell you 
that it is not a continent, and indeed I need 
not name the ocean whose waves dash in 
ceaseless music upon its shores. 

"Ireland is small compared with many 
countries in the world. It cannot boast of 
such magnificent distances as we can on 
this North American Continent. In point 
of wealth Ireland is poor compared with 
England, the center of our great Empire, 
and the financial mistress of the nations. 

"The history of Ireland is both tear- 
stained and blood-stained. Irish history 
has had a combination of both tragedy and 
comedy, and yet I am compelled to say 
that that history is rich in many of the ele- 
ments which constitute national greatness. 

"Irish" history has chronicled on its pages 
names and events, with deeds of varied 
heroism, of which we, her sons and daugh- 
ters, may be justly proud. We can point 
to men of imperial genius in the higher 
walks of intellectual life, to men of unriv- 
aled statesmanship in the craft of legisla- 
tion, to men of vast erudition, to men of 
captivating eloquence, who, on the bench 
and at the bar and in the pulpit and in Par- 
liament have made an indelible impress 
upon the world of mankind. To say that a 
speech reminds one of the old Irish orators 
is highest praise. 

"We cannot think of Irish history, an- 
cient or modern, without thinking with 
national pride of men of military heroism 
and of loyalty to King and Country. While 
we give unstinted praise to the Iron Duke 
and to generals of a later day, including 
Roberts, Kitchener and others, we are not 
less proud of the Dublin Fusiliers and of 
the Enniskillen Dragoons. If we praise the 
statesmen, the scholars, the heroes and the 
orators of Ireland, what shall be said of the 
Irish ladies? What young Irishman has 
not an eye for the beautiful, and especially 



an eye for a pretty girl ? What Irishman is 
not proud to bow before them as women 
of finest culture, rarest beauty and of deep- 
est love? For many years past Old Ire- 
land has sorrowfully witnessed the' depart- 
ure from her shores of thousands, yea, 
millions, of her people. Her sons and 
daughters are in almost every land beneath 
the sun, but wherever they wander they 
kindly remember the old land — the land be- 
yond the sea. 

"When they sing it is often the so-ngs 
which carry them back to the green isle of" 
the ocean. How often our soft Irish hearts 
have been thrilled as we have listened to 
the immortal Irish melodies. I need only 
mention a few: The Harp That Once 
Through Tara's Hall,' 'Kathleen Mavour- 
neen,' 'Erin Go Bragh,' 'The Irish Emi- 
grant's Lament,' Father Front's 'Bells of 
Shandon on the River Lee,' 

" T'm sitting on the stile, Mary, 
Where we sat side by side, 
On a bright May morning long ago. 
When first you were my bride.' 

"That touching ballad was written by the 
mother of our illustrious Lord Dufiferin. 

"Think of Old Ireland ! How could we 
do otherwise? It was there we first saw 
the light of day, and it was there we en- 
joyed the sports of childhood. To many of 
us Ireland is dear because our parents live 
there or are laid beneath the sod of the 
quiet churchyard awaiting the morning of 
the resurrection. 

"As memory and imagination voyage 
across the Atlantic and wander through the 
homes, and look into the faces of the loved 
ones there, and gaze with Irish rapture 
upon the charming scenes of the hills and 
vales of our native land, we are sometimes 
ready to exclaim : 



5o6 



CANADIAN ORATIONS. 



" 'Oh, steer my barque to Erin's Isle, 
For Erin is my home.' 

"In thinking of the land we left, of its 
ancient history, of its peerless beauty, of 
its youthful associations, of its family, and 
therefore its tender, loving- and sacred 
reminiscences, we feel like sighing, 'Home, 
Sweet Home.' * * * 

"On an occasion like this we must not 
forget to mention the land of our adoption, 
Canada. In approaching this part of our 
subject a new class of thoughts takes pos- 
session of our minds and a new class of 
emotions occupy our hearts. 

"While it is proper that Englishmen in 
Canada should remember grand old Eng- 
land, Scotchmen rugged and glorious Scot- 
land, and Irishmen beautiful Ireland, it is 
possible that amid our enthusiastic glorying 
in those old historic lands we may some- 
what forget the place which Canada should 
have in our esteem and in our attachment. 

"I deem it suitable at this Irish Protes- 
tant Benevolent Society concert to connect 
Canada with Ireland. Canada has claims 
upon us, and is worthy of our best — our 
best in thought, our best in purpose, and 
our best in action. 

"Michael Davitt, a noted nationalist, 
whom I met years ago at Banff Hotel, in 
the Rockies, said to me : 'You have the 
grandest national heritage on the face of 
the earth.' If I could not agree with Mich- 
ael Davitt upon other things, I quite agreed 
with that statement concerning our fair Do- 
minion. 

"Canada is British territory, and that 
means much. It is part of the Empire 
which occupies the first place in the family 
of earth's nations. The nation of which 
Canada is a part is first in commerce, first 
in literature, first in civilization, and easily 
first in Christianity. We are governed by 
the British law ; we enjoy British liberty. 



and we rejoice in British connection. * * ''• 
The resources of this country are rich be- 
yond description in all that constitutes the 
wealth of nations. In this land there should 
be seen a type of eclectic national life and 
power better than in England, better than 
in Scotland, better than in Ireland, because 
combining the best features of them all. 

"Let us not forget the land we left, old 
Ireland, but let us be careful to do our share 
in building up this continent in friendly re- 
lation with the United States, but never a 
part of the United States; a nation British 
in its love of freedom, British in its relation 
to the Throne, and great in all the elements 
of a true national life. If any of you are 
unfortunate enough not to have been born 
in Ireland, rejoice that, next best to that, 
you were born in Canada. You, too, may 
sing: 

" 'Breathes there a man with soul so dead. 
Who never to himself hath said. 
This is my own, my native Land !' 

"But while Ireland and Canada have 
commanded our attention to-night, I dare 
not sit down without a glance at the Em- 
pire of which both Ireland and Canada form 
important parts. 

"We have reached a stage in British 
Empire history where we must think of the 
Empire without Victoria. It shall be a long 
time before we can afford to forget the 
almighty, the illustrious, the glorious and 
beneficent reign so lately closed. We sang, 
and prayed as we sang, 'God Save Our 
Gracious Queen.' And was the prayer not 
answered ? We wander back for over half a 
century and listen to Alfred Tennyson, the 
greatest poet of the Victorian Reign, as he 
sang so prophetically, 

' . . . May you rule us long. 
And leave us rulers of your blood 
As noble till the latest day ! 



CANADIAN ORATIONS. 



507 



May children of our children say, 
"She wrought her people lasting good." 
Her court was pure, her life serene ; 

God gave her peace ; her land reposed ; 

A thousand claims to reverence closed 
In her as Mother, Wife and Queen : 

'And statesmen at her council met 

Who knew the seasons, when to take 
Occasion by the hand, and make 

The bounds of freedom wider yet 

By shaping some august decree 

Which kept her throne unshaken still, 
Broad-based upon her people's will. 

And compassed by the inviolate sea.' 



world-wide Empire of Edward VII. We 
sing now and pray as we sing, 'God Save 
Our Gracious King.' Because we are Irish 
and Canadian, we are British Empire men. 
History has been made at lightning speed 
of late. 

"We are glad that the dear old Queen in 
the closing year of her reign saw the unity 
of the Empire as never before, and saw 
with grateful eyes the loyalty and bravery 
of her 'Greater Britain.' 

"Imperialism is in the air and we of Irish 
Protestant stock are ready to enjoy the 
high and glorious privilege of British con- 
nection, with all its responsibility of citizen- 
ship." 



"Now we look out upon the almost 

JOSEPH HOWE'S LONDON IMPRESSIONS. 

On May 15, 1850, Joseph Howe returned to Nova Scotia from England 
banqueted by the citizens of Halifax and spoke thus: 



H 



e was 



OU know, my fellow townsmen, all 
that I feel on this occasion, and I ap- 
preciate all that you would express. If I 
am good for anything, if I have fittingly 
discharged the duties of this mission, I owe 
it to the opportunities you have afforded 
me to ripen and discipline the powers of 
my mind. I have done my best, and I did 
it with the consciousness that you would 
have been satisfied on that score even had 
I failed. Perhaps I may have had my mo- 
ments of depression. When I steamed up 
Liverpool harbor, and saw the noble docks 
stretching for miles along the shore, ships 
gliding past every instant like birds upon 
the wing, and all the evidences of the dense 
population and restless activity of a great 
commercial emporium, I may have 
doubted the possibility of an unknown col- 
onist obtaining a hearing on any subject. 
And I must confess that when I found my- 
self in the heart of England's great metrop- 
olis, with its two millions of people around 
me, of whom I knew not ten, I sometimes 
felt that if I ventured to raise my voice at 
all, amidst its aggregate industry, and high 
domestic excitement, I would probably re- 
semble the man howling in the wilderness. 
But the light that led to other victories led 



to this. * "■'■ * Until the time arrives 
when North America shall rise into a na- 
tion, nothing can be more honorable than 
our connection with the parent state. We 
must have a metropolis, an Imperial cen- 
ter, somewhere, and I do not hesitate to 
acknowledge that I prefer London, with 
her magnificent proportions, to Washing- 
ton, with her "magnificent distances." 

Give me London, the metropolis of the 
world, with her time-honored structures, 
in which the mighty dead repose; with all 
her faults, it may be, but with her abound- 
ing wealth, her high art, science and re- 
finement; but above all, and before all, the 
freedom of speech and personal liberty by 
which no other city that ever I saw is more 
honorably distinguished. I do not dis- 
guise from you that I look hopefully for- 
ward to the period when these splendid 
provinces, with the population, the re- 
sources, and the intelligence of a nation, 
will assume a national character. Until 
that day comes, we are safe beneath the 
shield of England; and when it comes, we 
shall stand between the two great nations 
whose blood we share, to moderate their 
counsels, and preserve them in the bonds 
of peace. 




LORD ROSEBERY is a powerful and persuasive platform orator, while his after- 
dinner speeches "are triumphs of easy brilliancy." Yet Lord Rosebery ha-s not been a 
wonderful success as a statesman. Perhaps the people of Great Britain expected too much; 
perhaps the boyish face which misrepresents his half a century of existence has been against 
him. Nevertheless he has been twice Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs and once Prime 
Minister. He was educated at Eton and Oxford and became a peer in 1868. 



ENGLISH ORATIONS, 



t^ t^ KO^ 



.LORD SALISBURY ON PROTECTION. 



ORD SALISBURY has been a 
patient plodder in the work which 
his ambition cut out for him. His patience 
and his plodding made him, when he de- 
feated Mr. Gladstone, the greatest publicist 
in England. As a speaker he is clear, 
logical .and straightforward. The speech 
which has attracted most attention in 
Canada, perhaps, was that delivered at 
Hastings, in May, 1892, when Lord Salis- 
bury said : 

'There is another matter which occupies 
our minds, and in which I think the pros- 
perity of this country is greatly involved. 
I allude to the question of our external 
trade. After all, this little island lives as 
a trading island. We could not produce 
enough to sustain the population that lives 
upon this island, and it is only by the great 
industries that exist here and find markets 
in foreign countries that we are able to 
maintain the vast population of this island. 
But a danger is growing up. Forty or 
fifty years ago everybody believed that free 
trade had conquered the world, and 
prophesied that every nation would shortly 
follow the example of England, and would 
give itself up to free trade. Well, the results 
W'Cre not exactly what was prophesied, but 
the less satisfactory they were the nuM-e the 
devoted votaries of free trade prophesied 
that it would come right at last. But we 
see now, after many years' experience, and 
explain it how we may, that foreign nations 
are raising one after another a wall of pro- 
tection round their shores which excludes 
US from their markets. As far as they are 



concerned it is their policy to kill our trade. 
And this state of things does not get bet- 
ter; on the contrary, it seems constantly to 
get worse. Now, I shall, of course, if I 
utter a word in reference to free trade, be 
accused of being ,a Protectionist, of trying 
to overthrow free trade, and of all other 
crimes which free imagination can attach 
to commercial heterodoxy. But all the 
same, I ask you to set yourselves free from 
all that vituperative doctrine, and to con- 
sider whether the true doctrine of free trade 
carries you as far as some of these gentle- 
men would wish you to go. Every religion 
has its counterpart in the inventions and 
legends and traditions which grow up and 
around it. The Old Testament had its 
canonical books, but it also had its Talmud 
and its Mishma, inventions of the Rabbis. 
Now, this book of free trade has had many 
Rabbinical translators, and one of the dif- 
ficulties we have to contend with is the 
strong and unreasonable rigor of the doc- 
trines which these Rabbis have imposed 
upon us. In the ofifice which I have the 
honor to hold i have to see a great deal, 
and one thing which I find is that we live 
in an age of war tariffs. Every nation is 
trying how it can, by agreement with its 
neighbors, get the greatest possible pro- 
tection for its own industry, and at the 
same time the greatest possible access to 
the markets. The negotiation is constantly 
going on. It has been going on for the 
past year and a half with great activity, and 
the important part is that while A. is very 
anxious to get the favor of B., and B. 



509 



5IO 



ENGLISH ORATIONS. 



anxious to get the favor of C, nobody 
cares a straw about getting the commer- 
cial favor of Great Britain. What is the 
reason of that? It is true that Great Brit- 
ain has deliberately stripped herself of the 
armor and weapons with which the battle 
has to be fought. You cannot do business 
in this work of evil on these terms. If you 
go to a market you must bring money with 
you, and if you fight you must fight with 
the weapons with which those with whom 
you have to contend are fighting. It is of 
no use for you to go into the market and 
say, 'I am a Quaker; I do not fight at all; 
I have no arms, I have no weapons;' and 
to expect people will pay the same regard 
to you, and be as anxious to obtain your 
good will and consult your interests as they 
will be of people who have retained their 
armor and still wield their weapons. 

"Now, the weapons with which they all 
fight is admission to their own markets; 
that is to say, A. says to B., Tf you will 
make your duties such as to enable me to 
sell in your markets I will make my duties 
such as will give you a sale in my markets.' 
But we have begun by saying we will levy 
no duties on anybody, for we regard it as 
contrary and disloyal to the glorious and 
sacred doctrine of free trade to levy duties 
upon anybody for the sake of anything we 
can get by it. I can only say that that is 
noble, but it is not business, and on those 
terms you will get nothing. I am sorry 
to be obliged to tell you that practically 
you are getting nothing. The feeling of 
this country by its authorized exponents 
has been against what is called a retaliatory 
policy. That is so, I assure you. We, as 
the Government of the country, have laid 
it down to ourselves as a strict rule that 
we are bound not to turn from the tradi- 
tional policy of this country, unless we are 
quite convinced that the majority of the 
country is with us^ because in foreign af- 



fairs consistency of policy is, beyond all 
things, necessary. Although that is the 
case, if I may aspire to fill the office of 
counselor to the public mind, I would ask 
you to form your own opinions without 
reference to the traditions or the denun- 
ciations, and not to care two straws whether 
you are orthodox or not, to form your own 
opinions according to the dictates of com- 
mon sense. I would impress upon you 
that if you intend in this conflict of com- 
mercial treaties to hold your own you 
must be prepared, if need be, to inflict upon 
the nations that injure you the penalty 
v/hich is in your hands of refusing them ac- 
cess to your markets. (A voice, 'Common 
sense at last.') There is a reproach in that 
interruption, but I am'bound to say I have 
never said anything else. I am bound at 
the same time to tell you what the difficulty 
is. The country we have the most reason 
to complain of is the United States, a coun- 
try which furnishes us mainly, though not 
entirely, with articles of food which are es- 
sential to the people, and with raw material 
essential to our manufactures, and which 
we cannot exclude without serious injury 
to ourselves. Now, in this matter I am 
not in the least prepared, for the sake of 
punishing other nations, to inflict any dan- 
gerous or serious wound upon ourselves. 
I maintain that we must confine ourselves 
at least for the present, to those subjects 
on which we would not suffer very much 
injury, whether the importation was con- 
tinued or diminished. But what I com- 
plain of the Rabbis of whom I have just 
spoken is that they confuse this vital point. 
They say everything must be given 
to the consumers. Well, if the con- 
sumer is the man who maintains the 
industry of the country or of the 
people at large, I quite agree with 
them, you cannot raise the price of food or 
the price of raw material. But there is an 



ENGLISH ORATIONS. 



51T 



enormous mass of other importations from 
other countries besides the United States, 
which are mere matters of luxurious con- 
sumption. If it be a question of wine or 
silk, or spirits, or gloves, or lace, or any- 
thing of that kind — I think there is a great 
deal to be said for hops — I should not in 
the least shirk from diminishing the con- 
sumption and interfering with the comfort 
of the excellent people who consume these 
articles of luxury for the purpose of main- 
taining our rights in this commercial war, 
and insisting upon our access to the mar- 
kets of our neighbors. This is very hetero- 



dox doctrine, and I am afraid I shall be 
excommunicated for having maintained it; 
and I am not sure you vvill escape from 
similar anathemas, therefore I warn you of 
the danger you incur. But as one whose 
duty it is to say what he thinks, I say we 
must distinguish between consumer and 
consumer, and while preserving the rights 
of the consumer who is co-existent with 
the whole industry or with the whole people 
of this comitry, we may very fairly use our 
power over the importations which merely 
minister to luxury in order to maintain our 
own in this great comm.ercial battle." 



ROSEBERY ON QUESTIONS OF EMPIRE. 



T^ ORD ROSEBERY has impressed 
^;i himself upon the Empire as a some- 
what theoretical and dilettante statesman. 
His speeches, however, are always thought- 
ful .and suggestive. That he foresees great 
Imperial problems the following quotation 
shov/s : 

Now, for my purpose it is not important 
to consider whether this Empire is greater 
or less than others, for it is impossible to 
compare states. Mere area, mere popula- 
tion, do not necessarily imply power; still 
less do they impart the security and con- 
tentment of the inhabitants. But my main 
reason for discarding relative proportions 
is very different. We have to consider not 
others, but ourselves. It is not alien em- 
pires which should concern us, except when 
they menace or compete. Our first main 
necessary responsibility is to our own. It 
is so vast, so splendid, so pregnant, that 
we have to ask ourselves: Are we ade- 
quate to do it? Can we discharge our re- 
sponsibility to God and to man for so mag- 
nificent, so populous a proportion of the 
world ? 

Our answer, off-hand, is ready and sim- 
ple. We are adequate. We do discharge 



our responsibilities. We are a conquer- 
ing and imperial race. All over the world 
we have displayed our mettle. We have dis- 
covered and annexed ,and governed vast 
territories. We have circled the globe with 
our commerce. We have penetrated the 
pagan races with our missionaries. We 
have inoculated the universe with our in- 
stitutions. We are apt indeed to believe 
that our soldiers are braver, our sailors 
hardier, our captains, naval and military, 
skilfuller, our statesmen wiser, than those 
of other nations. As for our constitution, 
there is no Briton at any hour of the 
day or night who will suffer it to be 
said that there is any that approaches it. 
;!= :i: * Jhere is a further and perhaps 
a mightier change in the conditions 
of the world during the past half 
century. Fifty years ago the world 
looked lazily on while we discovered, 
developed and annexed the waste or 
savage territories of the world. All that 
is now changed. The colonial microbe has 
penetrated almost every empire except that 
of Charles V., which has outlived it; and 
even here I must except his Netherland 
provinces. France, in the last ten or fif- 



512 



ENGLISH ORATIONS. 



teen years, has annexed perhaps a quarter 
of Africa, and has made a considerable 
eruption into Asia. Germany has shown 
no less a desire to become a colonizing na- 
tion. Russia pursues her secular path of 
unchecked absorption, constantly attract- 
ing fresh bodies into her prodigious orbit. 
Italy has been bitten by the same desire for 
expansion. The United States finds itself 
sitting like a startled hen on a brood of un- 
numbered islands in the Philippine group. 
All this is well and fair enough, but it 
changes our relation to the world. Every 
mile of unmapped country, every naked 
tribe of savages, is wrangled over as if it 
were situated in the center of Europe. The 
world has shrunk into a continent of ascer- 
tained boundaries. The illimitable and un- 
known, the happy field of dreams, have 
disappeared. That is a blow to imagina- 
tion, but it is not a fact of substantial im- 
portance to us, who do not desire to in- 
crease our territories. Indirectly, however, 
it raises a number of delicate and disputable 
points. Moreover, a colonial passion is 
apt to cause an ill-feeling, composed of 
envy, jealousy, and other hostile tendencies 
towards the ancient colonial empire. This 
again does not signify, provided we realize 
it, and do not deserve it, and are ready to 
deal with it. 

Then again there is the question of trade. 
Foreign countries used to sneer at trade. 
It was considered below the dignity of war- 
like races. We were described as a nation 
of shopkeepers. Now every nation wishes 
to be a nation of shopkeepers. This new 
object is pursued with the intelligent pur- 
pose which was once applied to the balance 
of power. That is a great change. We 
once had a sort of monopoly ; we now have 
to fight for existence. I summarize these 
various circumstances, to show how greatly 
the conditions of our commonwealth and 
its relations to the outer world have become 



modified. Some of these changes have 
passed almost unperceived. I call atten- 
tion to them, to demonstrate the necessity 
of our asking ourselves the vital and im- 
perative question: Have our state machin- 
ery and methods been examined and re- 
modeled in view of them? If not, no time 
should be lost. After all, a state is in es- 
sence a great Joint Stock Company with 
unlimited liability on the part of its share- 
holders. It is said, and said with truth, 
that difBcult as it is to make a great fortune, 
it is scarcely less difficult to keep it. With 
even more of accuracy the same may be 
said of business. A fortune without care 
is apt to disappear, as snow wastes away 
in a languid thaw. And a business depends 
on an incessant vigilance, on method, on 
keeping abreast of the times. A business 
in these days can live but a short time on 
its past reputation, and what is true of a 
business is true of an empire. It is found 
out to be a sham ; its aims, its government, 
its diplomacy, are seen to be out of date 
by watchful rivals; an excuse is found for a 
quarrel (and such excuses are easy); the 
empire is tested and fails, and succumbs. 
As in a business, too, a periodical stock- 
taking is necessary in a state. So far as 
mere money is concerned, this is regularly 
done. We know with some accuracy our 
income, our expenditure, and our debts; 
but money, though a national necessity and 
a valuable international weapon, is not 
everything. A business house in these days 
looks over its managers and its agents, and 
considers whether they continue efficient. 
It surveys its methods and compares them 
with those of its rivals; it discards those 
which are obsolete, and adopts all improve- 
ments. If it does not do this, it is doomed. 
This sort of stock-taking is unknown to the 
British Empire. The ordinary Briton 
thinks it is needless. He says comfortably 
that we have won Waterloo and Blenheim 



ENGLISH ORATIONS.. 



513 



and Trafalgar, and have produced Nelson 
and Wellington and Roberts; we have 
plenty of trade and plenty of money; how 
on earth could we do better? And this 
fatal complacency is so ingrained, that 



some despair of a remedy until we are 
awakened by a national disaster. For an 
Empire, like a business, if neglected, will 
become obsolete. 



JOSEPH CHAMBERLAIN ON IMPERIAL CONSOLIDATION. 



HE Right Hon. Joseph Chamberlain, 
|<^' Secretary of State for the Colonies, 
has bulked large in the recent political life 
of the Empire. He is an ardent Imperial- 
ist, as may be gathered from the following 
quotation from a speech delivered at the 
Colonial Conference in London in 1897: 

"Now, gentlemen, undoubtedly the great- 
est, the m.ost important, and at the same 
time the most difficult of all the subjects 
which we could consider is the question 
of the future relations, political and com- 
mercial, between the self-governing col- 
onies and the United Kingdom. I do not 
think it is necessary for me to argue at ail 
upon the advantages of such closer union. 
Strong as is the bond of sentiment and im- 
possible as it would be to establish any 
kind of relations unless that bond of senti- 
ment existed, I believe that we all feel that 
it would be desirable to take advantage of 
it and to still further tighten the ties which 
bind us together. In this country, at all 
events, I may truly say that the idea of 
federation is in the air. Whether with you 
it had gone as far is for you to say, and 
it is also for you to consider whether we 
can give any piractical application to the 
principle. It may be well that the time is 
hardly ripe for anything definite in this 
regard. It is quite true that our own Con- 
stitution and your Constitutions have all 
been the subject of very slow growth, and 
that they are all the stronger because they 
have been gradually consolidated, and so, 
perhaps, with Imperial federation; if it is 
ever to be accomplished it will be only after 



the lapse of a considerable time and only 
by gradual steps. And undoubtedly one of 
those steps to which we must all attach 
very great importance, is the grouping of 
the colonies. We rejoice in this country 
that Canada has already shown the way, 
with results which everyone has seen have 
conduced greatly to her strength and to 
her prosperity. We observe with the most 
lively interest the proceedings which are 
taking place in Australia with the same 
view. We know that in South African poli- 
tics the same idea has bulked very largely 
in the past, and probably will come to the 
front again. In regard to all these matters 
it is not for us to offer advice; it is not 
for us to impress upon you in any shape 
our interference or our assistance. If it be 
possible for us in any way to help to give 
effect to your own desires I need not say 
that we are entirely at your service; but 
in the meantime I can assure you, on 
behalf, I am sure, of the people of this 
country, that we most heartily wish success 
to your efforts, believing, as I have- said, 
that it will in your case, as it has already 
done in the case of Canada, conduce to 
your prosperity and to your power. But 
as regards the larger question and anything 
in the nature of a federation of the empire, 
the subject seems to me to depend entirely 
upon the feeling which exists in the colonies 
themselves. Here you will be met half way. 
The question is whether up to the present 
time there is such a genuine popular de- 
mand for closer union as would justify us 
in considering practical proposals to give 




RT. HON. WILLIAM EWART GLADSTONE, one of the most eloquent of modern 
orators, perhaps the leading statesman of the world for a time, made his last speech in the 
British House of Commons on the ist of March, 1894. Without being pathetic or dramatic, 
without a formal farewell, he spoke for the last time in that great meeting house which he 
had entered for the first time sixty-one years before, and in which for a score of years he had 
been the chief figure, , 



ENGLISH ORATIONS. 



515 



It shape. I feel that there is a real necessity 
lor some better machinery of consultation 
between the self-governing colonies and 
the Mother Country, and it has sometimes 
struck me — I offer it now merely as ,a per- 
sonal suggestion — that it might be feasible 
to create a great council of the Empire to 
which the colonies would send representa- 
tive plenipotentiaries — not mere delegates 
who were unable to speak in their name 
without further reference to their respec- 
tive Government, but persons who by their 
positions in the colonies, by their repre- 
sentative character, and by their close touch 
with colonial feeling would be able, upon 
all subjects submitted to them, to give 
really effective and valuable advice. If 
such a council were to be created it would 
at once assume an immense importance, 
and it is perfectly evident that it might 
develop into something still greater. It 
might slowly grow to that Federal Council 
to which we must always look forward as 
our ultimate ideal. And to a council of 
this kind would be conmiitted, in the first 
instance, the discussion of all minor sub- 



jects of common interest, and their opinion 
would be taken and would weigh most 
materially in the balance before any deci- 
sion were come to either by this country 
or by the Legislatures of the several col- 
onies in regard to such matters. 

"There is only one point in reference to 
this which it is absolutely necessary that we 
all should bear in mind. It may be that 
the time has come, and if not I believe it 
will com.e, when the colonies will desire to 
substitute for the slight relationship which 
at present exists a true partnership, and 
in that case they will want their share in 
the management of the Empire which we 
like to think is as much theirs as it is ours. 
But, of course, with -the privilege of man- 
agement and of control will also come the 
obligation and the responsibility. There will 
come some form of contribution towards 
the expenses for objects which we shall 
have in common. That, I say, is self-evi- 
dent, but it is to be borne in mind even in 
these early stages of the consideration of 
the subject."' 



GLADSTONE ON HOME RULE. 



fHE Right Hon. W. E. Gladstone was 
one of the half-dozen great orators 
and statesmen of the nineteenth century. 
His greatest ambition was to give Ireland 
Home Rule, but he died with it unfulfilled. 
Some paragraphs from his speech at Swan- 
sea, Wales, Jtme, 1887, will throw light on 
his attitude and afford an example of his 
oratory : 

"You will readily believe that I have not 
only been impressed but almost oppressed 
by the sense of the events and manifesta- 
tions of to-day, and if it were in your power 
really to invest me with the qualities which 
your kindness ascribes to me, I should 
possess faculties to serve my country in- 



finitely in advance of any I can claim; but 
such as I am, I am at the command of 
my country. A limited span may still be 
allotted to me for public service after a 
term already extended much beyond what 
is usually given to man, and this will be 
given to the service of my country, in spite 
of my deep sense of the violence done to 
nature in carrying on through old age, 
especially as it approaches extreme old age, 
a life of contention; yet the service of my 
country is a purpose great and so special, 
as sir, it has been so justly described by 
you — a purpose, not only affecting the 
happiness of all classes of Ireland, but like- 
wise having such a position in regard to 



5i6 



ENGLISH ORATIONS. 



Imperial affairs and Imperial honor that, 
for the present at least, it may be said to 
overshadow and absorb in itself all and 
every other question. On that question, 
gentlemen, I should wish to say some words 
to you to-night. I have never felt that, in 
proposing to grant Ireland — subject to the 
unity of the Empire and the authority of 
Parliament — a full and real power to man- 
age exclusively Irish affairs, I was propos- 
ing a Liberal measure in a mere party 
sense. A Liberal measure it is in this 
sense — in this broad and noble sense — that 
it is a just and a generous measure, and 
those who cast their eyes over the history 
of the present century will, I think, in 
future times acknowledge, and, I believe, 
that impartial historians will record in how 
large and comprehensive a degree the hand 
of the Liberal party has been practically 
associated with liberty and justice. But I 
am bound to say that I regard nothing in 
that measure of a character to associate 
with any extremes of political opinion. It 
is in the first place a Conservative measure, 
We, the Liberals, aim ,at calling back to 
existence, subject to due safeguard's and 
control, a Parliament in place of the ancient 
Legislature which was ruthlessly and 
cruelly put an end to at the close of the 
last century. This is surely a Conservative 
measure. The Irish people are struggling 
in conformity with their ancient principles ; 
and that, gentlemen, is no special feature 
of a democratic policy, and it is absolutely 
the reverse of an innovating policy. 

Jr. * * * =k * 

"Much has been said out of Wales, and 
perhaps something in Wales, as to the posi- 
tion which the representatives of Ireland 
would bear to the Parliament in Westmin- 
ster. This subject has greatly perplexed 
many minds, but if you ask me how many, 
I must frankly own that I think it has not 
perplexed a great many minds among the 



people of this country. They have looked 
on the question broadly as a matter of 
truth, honor, and justice. They have taken 
a thoroughly national and Imperial view of 
it, and they have not allowed the consider- 
ation of any secondary question, however 
weighty, to prejudice them, or stop their 
straightforward course upon the path 
which they know leads to a desirable con- 
summation. But at the same time much 
has been said, perhaps by some for the sake 
simply of throwing difiticulty in our way 
— on that I will not dwell — and by others 
in perfect good faith. For example, there 
are many who say — and I do not put en- 
tirely a negative upon it— that the repre- 
sentation of Ireland at Westminster is a 
symbol of Imperial unity, and is in the 
nature of a means to secure it, and -ought 
not to be hghtly put aside. Well, in Scot- 
land there is a feeling of a more definite 
character, and that feeling may possibly in 
a degree have found its way into Wales. 
You are aware better than I am to what 
extent that is the case. But in Scotland 
there is a considerable amount of desire 
for some kind of Home Rule for Scotland, 
and the persons who entertain that desire 
have been startled with this idea. They 
say to themselves, if Irish representatives 
are excluded from the Parliament of West- 
minster on account of their having a par- 
liament in Dublin, we shall never be able 
to get any assembly for our own local 
affairs without being excluded from the 
Parliament of Westminster. And cer- 
tainly I agree from the bottom of my heart 
with the Scotch in thinking that nothing 
could be more preposterous, more un- 
necessary, more absurd, than to exclude 
Scotch members from the Parliament of 
Westminster. Now, I know not whether 
a feeling of that kind prevails in Wales or 
not. I have not heard much of it. But, 
at any rate, whether it does or not, I think 



ENGLISH ORATIONS. 



517 



there is ground for recognizing it as a fact, 
and endeavoring to give to the desire for 
information which is not unnaturally enter- 
tained whatever satisfaction the question 
may permit. Now, I am going to call your 
attention particularly to this question of 
the retention or exclusion of Irish mem- 
bers from Westminster, in connection with 
the establishment of a Parliament or local 
legislative body in Dublin for the manage- 
ment of exclusively Irish afifairs; and I 
think it may be well to remind you of what 
has actually taken place on the subject, 
from which you will see how entirely free 
we are to deal with the whole of this ques- 
tion as policy and good sense may dictate. 
When the Irish Government Bill was intro- 
duced I was closely pressed to declare what 
were the essential conditions of that Bill, 
what were the essential objects in the pro- 
ject, so that it might be understood in the 
future what portions of the Bill were open 
to discussion and what were already closed 
to discussion; and on April 13, 1886, I 
laid down five points as essential points. 
One point was that Imperial unity should 
be preserved — of course, through the su- 
premacy of Parliament. The second point 
was that all the kingdom should be kept 
upon the basis of essential political equality. 



The third was, that there should be an 
equitable distribution of Imperial burdens. 
I will not say anything now upon that, be- 
cause I can conceive there is no doubt 
about it. Fourthly, that there should be 
safeguards for minorities. Well, that had 
reference to the jealousies which prevailed 
in Ulster, and we again declared that if 
there is a desire — a well-considered desire 
— on the part of the Protestant population 
in the portion of Ulster capable of being 
dealt with separately, we were perfectly 
agreed to consider any plan for that pur- 
pose. And, fifthly, the last essential was 
that the measure we proposed should be 
in the nature of what is called a final ar- 
rangement — a real settlement — we never 
can speak of absolute finality, — but still, 
that it should be in the nature of one of 
those real settlements, which we expect not 
to be followed at any early time by a re- 
agitation of the subject. These were the 
five essential points of the measure, and 
you will observe that at that date the in- 
clusion or exclusion of Irish members at 
Westminster was not among our essential 
points. It was left to be dealt with freely 
as the expediency and conviction of the 
country might determine." 



BEACONSFIELD ON EDUCATION. 



I^ENJAMIN DISRAELI, Lord Bea- 
y^ consfield, was a great statesman and 
a distinguished novelist. As an orator he 
did not perhaps equal Gladstone, his great 
rival, but his style was wittier and brighter 
if less elevated. One of his most philo- 
sophical utterances was a speech made 
early in his career (1844). He was address- 
ing an audience of business men at Man- 
chester, and in part said : 

"Why, when the great body of mankind 
had become familiar with this great dis- 



covery (the value of education), when they 
learned that a new source was opened to 
them of influence and enjoyment, is it won- 
derful that from that hour the heart of 
nations has palpitated with the desire of 
becoming acquainted with all that has hap- 
pened, and with speculating on what may 
occur? It has indeed produced on the 
popular intellect an influence almost as 
great as — I might say analogous to — the 
great change which was produced upon the 
old commercial world by the discovery of 




BENJAMIN DISRAELI (LORD BEACONSFIELD) passed from the British political 
stage some twenty years ago. A man of Hebrew parentage, without wealth, without social 
position, without aristocratic connections, he won his way to the leading position in the 
British Empire, and was twice Premier. He was gay, egotistical, ambitious. He became 
grave, dignified and powerful. His epigrams won him enemies but they also won him fame. 
He will long be remembered in Canada as one of the first English statesmen to declare that 
the colonies might become integral and important parts of a Greater Britain. 



ENGLISH ORATIONS. 



519 



the Americans. A new standard of value 
was introduced, and after this, to be dis- 
tinguished, man must be intellectual. Nor 
indeed am I surprised that this feeling has 
so powerfully influenced oilr race; for the 
idea that human happiness is dependent 
on the cultivation of the mind and on the 
discovery of truth, is, next to the convic- 
tion of our immortality, the idea the most 
full of consolation to man; for the cultiva- 
tion of the mind has no limits, and truth is 
the only thing that is eternal. Indeed, when 
you consider what a man is who knows 
only what is passing under his own eyes, 
and what the condition of the same man 
must be who belongs to an institution like 
the one which has assembled us together 
to-night, is it — ought it to be — a matter of 
surprise that from that moment to the 
present you have had a general feeling 
throughout the civilized world in favor of 
the diiifusion of knowledge? A man who 
knows nothing but the history of the pass- 
ing hour, who knows nothing of the history 
of the past but that a certain person whose 
brain was as vacant as his own occupied 
the same house as himself, who in a mo- 
ment of despondency or of gloom has no 
hope in the morrow, because he has read 
nothing that has taught him that the mor- 
row has any changes — that man, compared 
with him who has read the most ordinary 
abridgment of history or the most common 
philosophical speculation, is as distinct and 
different an animal as if he had fallen from 
some other planet, was influenced by a 
great organization, working for a dififerent 
end, and hoping for a different result. It 
is knowledge that influences and equalizes 
the social condition of man; that gives to 
all, however dififerent their political posi- 
tion, passions which are in common, and 
enjoyments which are universal. Knowl- 
edge is like the mystic ladder in the 
patriarch's dream. Its base rests on the 



prinucval earth, its crest is lost in the 
shadowy splendor of the empyrean; while 
the great authors, who for traditionary ages 
have held the chain of science and philoso- 
phy, or poesy and erudition, are the angels 
ascending and descending the sacred scale 
to maintain, as it were, the communication 
between man and heaven. This feeling is 
so universal, that there is no combination 
of society in any age in which it has not 
developed itself. It may indeed be partly 
restrained under despotic governments, 
under pecuhar systems of retarded civili- 
zation, but it is a consequence as incidental 
to the spirit and the genius of the Christian 
civilization of Europe as that the day should 
follow the night, and the stars should 
be shining according to their laws 
and order. Why, the very name of the 
institution that brings us together illus- 
trates the fact. I can recall, and I think I 
see more than one gentleman around me 
who equally can recall the hours in which 
we wandered amid — 

"Fields that cool Ulyssus loves." 

* * * :!-■ * * 

'T still can remember that olive-crowned 
plain, that sunset crag, that citadel fame 
of ineffable beauty! That was a brilliant 
civilization developed by a gifted race more 
than 2,000 years ago, at a time when the 
ancestors of the manufacturers of Man- 
chester, who now clothe the world, were 
themselves covered with skins and tattooes 
like the red micn of the wilderness. But 
influences more powerful even than the 
useful lapse of time separate and distin- 
guish you from that race. 

"Yet, amid the toil and triumphs of your 

scientific industry, upon you there comes 

the indefinable, the irresistible yearning for 

intellectual refinement; you build an edifice 

consecrated to those beautiful emotions 



520 



ENGLISH ORATIONS. 



and to those civilizing studies in which 
they excelled, and you impress upon its 
front a name taken from — 

"Where on ^gean shores a city rose, 
Built nobly ; clear the air and light the soil ; 
Athens the eye of Greece, mother of arts 
And eloquence." 

"Beautiful triumph of immortal genius. 
Sublime incentive to eternal fame! Then, 
when the feeling is so universal, when it is 
one which modern civilization is maturing \ 
and developing, who does not feel that it 
is not only the most benevolent, but the 
most politic thing you can do to avail your- 
self of its influence, and to direct in every 
way the formation of that character upon 
which intellect must necessarily now exer- 
cise an irresistible influence? We cannot 
shut our eyes any longer to the immense 
revolution; knowledge is no longer a lonely 
eremite affording a chance and captivating 
hospitality to some wandering pilgrim; 
knowledge is now found in the market- 
place, .a citizen and a leader of citizens. The 
spirit has touched the multitude; it has 
impregnated the mass — 

Totamque infusa per artus 
Mens agitat molem et magno se corpore miscet. 

'T w^ould yet say one word to those for 
whom this institution is not entirely but 
principally formed. I would address my- 
self to that youth on whom the hopes of 
all societies repose and depend. I doubt 
not that they feel conscious of the position 
which they occupy — a position which, under 
all circumstances, at all periods, in every 
clime and country, is one replete with duty. 
The Youth of a nation are the Masters of 
Posterity; but the youth I address have 
duties peculiar to the position which they 
occupy. They are the rising generation of 
a society unprecedented in the history of 
the world; that is at once powerful and 
Mew. In other parts of the kingdom the 



remains of an ancient civilization are pre- 
pared ever to guide, to cultivate, to inform, 
to influence the rising mind. But they are 
born in a miraculous creation of novel 
powers, and it is rather a providential in- 
stinct that has developed the necessary 
means of maintaining the order of your 
new civilization than the natural foresight 
of man. This is their inheritance. They 
will be called upon to perform duties — 
great duties; I for one wish, for their sakes 
and for the sake of my country, that they 
may be performed greatly. I give to them 
that counsel that I have ever given to 
youth, and which I believe to be the wisest 
and the best — I tell them to aspire. I 
believe that the man who does not look 
up will look down, and that the spirit that 
does not dare to soar is destined perhaps 
to grovel. Every individual is entitled to 
aspire to that position which he believes 
his faculties qualify him to occupy ; I know 
that there are some who look with what I 
believe is short-sighted timidity and false 
prudence upon such views. They are apt 
to tell us, 'Beware of filHng the youthful 
mind with an impetuous tumult of turbu- 
lent fancies; teach youth rather to be con- 
tent with his position; do not induce him 
to fancy that he is that which he is not, or 
to aspire to that which he cannot achieve.' 
In my mind these are superficial delusions. 
He who enters the world finds his level. It 
is the solitary being, the isolated individual 
alone in his solitude who may be apt to 
miscalculate his powers and misunderstand 
his character. But action teaches him the 
truth even if it be a stern one; association 
affords him the best criticism in the world, 
and I will venture to say that if he belongs 
to the Athenseum, though when he enters 
it he may think himself a genius, if nature 
has not given him a passionate and creative 
soul, before a week has elapsed he v/ill 
become a very sober-minded individual." 



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